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AT HOME AID ABROAD : 



A SKETCH-BOOK 



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LIFE, SCENERY AND MEN 



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BAYARD '^TAYLOE 



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NEW YORK: ..^^. 

G. P. PUTNAM, 532 BROADWAY 

LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, SON & CO. 
1862. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlio year IS62, by 

G. P. P U T N A M , 

in the Clerk's Ofli<-e of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
District ol New Yorlc. 



K. CRAIGHEAD, 

Printer, Siereoiyper, :iii(i Kleciiotyper, 

Caiton ISuiltii'ng, 

81, 83, and 85 Ceidrt Street 



CONTENTS 



I.— A COUNTEY HOME IN AMERICA. 

PAOB 

1. — HOW I CAME TO BUY A FARM, 1 

2.— "free SOIL," . 10 

3. THE BUILDING OF A HOUSE, 19 

4. — RESULTS AND SUGGESTIONS, 28 



II.— NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFOENIA. 

1. SAN FRANCISCO, AFTER TEN YEARS, . . . . 37 

2. — THE VALLEY OF SAN JOS^, 50 

3. — ^A JOURNEY TO THE GEYSERS, 65 

4. — A STRUGGLE TO KEEP AN APPOINTMENT, .... 86 

5. — THE SACRAMENTO VALLEY, 105 

6. — THE NORTHERN MINES, 125 

7. — TRAVELLING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA, .... 144 

8. THE SOUTHERN MINES, 159 

9. — THE BIG TREES OF CALAVERAS, 176 

10. CALIFORNIA, AS A HOME, 191 



III.— A HOME IN THE THtJEINaiAN FOEEST. 

1. TAKING POSSESSION, 203 

2. ^HOW WE SPENT THE FOURTH, 210 

3. ^REINHARDTSBRUNN, AND ITS LEGEND, .... 218 

4. THE FIRST GERMAN SHOOTING-MATCH, .... 225 



IV CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

5. — THE SAME, CONTINUED, 236 

6. ERNEST OF COBURG, 243 

7. STORKS AND AUTHORS, 253 

8. " THE VISION OF SUDDEN DEATH," 261 

9. THE FOREST AND ITS LEGENDS, 270 

10. DAT-DREAMS DEPARTURE, 279 



lY.— A WALK THROUan THE FRANCONIAN 

SWITZERLAND 286 



7.— TRAVELS AT HOJ^IE. 

1. — THE HUDSON AND THE CATSKILLS, 319 

2. BERKSHIRE AND BOSTON, 330 

3. THE SAGO VALLEY, 341 

4. — THE ASCENT OF MOUNT WASHINGTON, .... 355 

5. MONTREAL AND QUEBEC, 366 

6. — UP THE SAGUENAY, ....... 374 

7. — NIAGARA, AND ITS VISITORS, 388 

8. TRENTON FALLS AND SARATOGA, 396 



YI.— PERSONAL SKETCHES. 

1. THE LESLIES, ' 404 

2. THE BROWNINGS, 410 

3. THE WRITERS FOR " PUNCH," 416 

4. LEIGH HUNT, " . 421 

5. — HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN, 426 



Vn.— THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. . . 433 
YIIL— THE HAUNTED SHANTY 473 



AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

SECOND SERIES 



I. 

A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 



1. — ^How I Came to But a Farm. 

In the first place, it runs in the blood. If there is any 
law I believe in, it is that of the hereditary transmission of 
traits, quahties, capacities, and passions. My father is a 
farmer ; my grandfather was, and his father before him, and 
his, and his again, to the seventh ancestor, who came over in 
one of William Penn's vessels, and immediately set about 
reducing the superfluous sylvanism of that Apostle's Sylva- 
nia. K I could brush away the clouds which hang about 
this portion of the genealogical tree, I have no doubt but 
that I should find its trunk striking through cottages or 
country halls for some centuries further ; and that " Roger, 
{oh. 1614,) the son of Thomas, the son of Roger," who 
wore the judicial ermine upon his escutcheon, had iiis 
favoiite country-house in the neighborhood of London. 

1 



2 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

The child that has tumbled into a newly-ploughed furrow 
never forgets the smell of the fresh earth. He thrives upon 
it as the butcher's boy thrives upon the steam of blood, 
but a healthier apple-red comes into his cheeks, and his 
growing muscle is subdued in more innocent pastimes. 
Almost my first recollection is that of a swamp, into which 
I went bare-legged at morning, and out of which I came, 
when driven by hunger, with long stockings of black mud, 
and a mask of the same. If the child was missed from the 
house, the first thing that suggested itself, was to climb 
upon a mound which overlooked the swamp. Somewhere, 
among the tufts of the rushes and the bladed leaves of the 
calamus, a little brown ball was sure to be seen moving, 
now dipping out of sight, now rising again, like a bit of 
drift on the rippling green. It was my head. The trea- 
sures I there collected were black terrapins, with orange 
spots, baby frogs the size of a chestnut, thrush's eggs, and 
stems of purple phlox. 

I cannot say that my boyish experience of farmwork was 
altogether attractive. I had a constitutional horror of 
dirty hands, and my first employments — picking stones and 
Aveeding corn — were rather a torture to this superfine taste. 
But almost every field had its walnut tree, and many of the 
last year's nuts retained their flavor in the spring ; melons 
were planted among the corn, and the meadow which lay 
between never exhausted its store of wonders. Besides, 
there w^ere eggs to hide at Easter ; cherries and strawberries 
in May ; fruits all summer, fishing-parties by torch-light ; 
lobelia and sumac to be gathered, dried, and sold for 
pocket-money ; and in the fall chestnuts, persimmons, wild 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMEEICA. 3 

grapes, cider, and the grand butchering after frost came — 
so that all the pleasures I knew were those incidental to a 
farmer's life. The books I read came from the village 

o 

library, and the task of helping to " fodder'' on the dark 
winter evenings was lightened by the anticipation of sitting 
down to Gibbon's Kome, or Thaddeus of Warsaw, after- 
wards. To be sure, I sometimes envied the store-keeper's 
boy, whom I had once seen shovelling sugar out of a hogs- 
head, and who now and then stealthily dipped his hand 
into the raisin-box ; but it is not in the nature of any child 
to be perfectly satisfied with his lot. 

A life of three years in a small country town effectually 
cured me of all such folly. When I returned to the home- 
stead as a youth, I first felt the delight and the refreshment 
of labor in the open air. I was then able to take the plough- 
handle, and I still remember the pride I felt when my 
furrows were pronounced even and vrell turned. Although 
it was already decided that I should not make farming the 
business of my hfe, I thrust into my plans a slender wedge 
of hope that I might one day own a bit of ground, for the 
luxury of having, if not the profit of cultivating it. The 
iroma of the sweet soil had tinctured my blood ; the black 
mud of the swamp still stuck to my feet. 

It happened that, adjoining my father's property, there 
was an old farm, which was fast relapsing into a state of 
nature. Thirty or forty years had passed since the plough 
had touched any part of it. The owner, who lived upon 
another estate at a little distance, had always declined to 
sell — perhaps for the reason that no purchaser could be 
found to offer an encouraging price. Left thus to herself, 



4 AT HOME^ AND ABHOAD. 

JSTature played all sorts of wild and picturesque pranks with 
the property. Two heaps of stones were all that marked 
the site of the house and barn ; half a dozen ragged pluin 
and peach trees hovered around the outskirts of the 
vanished garden, the melancholy survivors of all its bloom 
and fruitage ; and a mixture of tall sedge-grass, sumacs, 
and blackberry bushes covered the fields. The hawthorn 
hedges which lined the lane had disappeared, but some 
clumps of privet still held their ground, and the wild grape 
and scarlet-berried celastrus clambered all over the tall 
sassafras and tulip-trees. 

Along the road which bounded this farm on the east 
stood a grove of magnificent oaks, more than a hundred 
feet in height. Standing too closely to permit of lateral 
boughs near the earth, their trunks rose like a crowded 
colonnade clear against the sky, and the sunset, burning 
through, took more gorgeous hues of orange and angry 
crimson. Knowing that if the farm were sold, those glo- 
rious trees would probably be the first to fall, and that the 
sunset would thereby for me lose half its splendor, I gra- 
dually came to contemplate them with the interest which 
an uncertain, suspended fate inspires. At the foot of the 
oaks, on the ^order of the field, there was an old, gnarled 
mother-pine, surrounded by her brood of young ones, Avho, 
always springing up in the same direction, from the fact 
that the seeds were scattered by the nor' west winds, 
seemed to be running off down the slope, as if full-fledged 
and eager to make their way into the world. The old 
pine had an awful interest to me as a boy. More than 
once huge black snakes had been seen hanging from its 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMEKICA. 5 

boughs, and the farm-hands would tell mysterious stories 
of an old mother-serpent, as long as a fence-rail and as 
swift as a horse. In fact, my brother and I, on our way to 
the peach-trees, which still produced some bitter-flavored 
fruit, had more than once seen snakes in our path. On a 
certain occasion, as my memory runs, I chased the snake, 
while he ran away. His story is, that he chased and I ran 
" — and the question remains unsettled to this day. 

In another wood of chestnuts, beyond the field, the finest 
yellow violets were to be found ; the azaleas blossomed in 
their season, and the ivory Indian-pipe sprang up under the 
beech-trees. Sometimes we extended our rambles to the 
end of the farm, and looked dow^n into the secluded dells 
beyond the ridge which it covered : such glimpses were 
like the discovery of unknown lands. How far off the 
other people lived ! How strange it must be to dwell con- 
tinually down in that hollow, with no other house in sight! 
But when I build a house, I thought, I shall build it up on 
the ridge, with a high steeple, from the top of which I can 
see far and wide. That deserted farm was to me like the 
Ejuxria of Hartley Coleridge, but my day-dreams weJ-e far 
less ambitious than his. If I had known then what I 
learned long afterwards, that a tradition of buried treasure 
still lingers about the old garden, I should no- doubt have 
dug up millions in my imagination, roofed my house with 
gold, and made the steeple thereof five hundred feet high. 

At last came the launch into the world — a slide, a plunge, 
a shudder, and the ship rides the weaves. Absence, occu- 
pation, travel, substituted realities for dreams, and the 
farm, if not forgotten, became a very subordinate object in 



6 AT HOME AXD ABEOAD. 

the catalogue of thiDgs to be attained. "Whenever I visited 
the homestead, however, I saw the sunset through its 
grating of forest, and remembered the fate that still hung 
suspended over the trees. Fifty years of neglect had given 
the place a bad name among the farmers, while Nature, as 
if delighted to recover possession, had gone on adorning it 
in her own wild and matchless way. I looked on the spot 
with an instructed eye, and sighed, as I counted up my 
scanty earnings, at the relBlection that years must elapse 
before I could venture to think of j)ossessing it. My wish, 
nevertheless, was heard and remembered. 

In July, 1853, 1 was on the island of Loo-Choo. Return- 
ing to the flag-ship of the squadron one evening, after a 
long tramp over the hills to the south of Napa-Kiang, in a 
successful search for the ruins of the ancient fortress of 
Tima-gusku, I was summoned by the officer of the deck to 
receive a package which had been sent on board from one 
of the other vessels. Letters from home, after an interval 
of six months without news ! I immediately asked per- 
mission to burn a lamp on the orlop-deck, and read until 
midnight, forgetting the tramp of the sentry and the sounds 
of the sleepers in their hammocks around me. Opening 
letter after letter, and devouring, piece^ by piece, the ban- 
quet of news they contained, the most startling, as well as 
the most important communication, was — the old farm was 
mine ! Its former owner had died, the j^roperty was sold, 
and had been purchased in my name. I went on deck. 
The mid watch had just relieved the first: the night w^as 
pitch dark, only now and then a wave burst in a flash of 
"white phosphoric fire. But, as I looked westward over the 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 7 

Stern-rail, I saw the giant oaks, rising black against the 
crimson sunset, and knew that they were waiting for me — 
that I should surely see them again. 

Five months afterwards I approached home, after an 
absence of nearly two years and a half. It was Christmas 
Eve — a clear, sharp winter night. The bare earth was hard 
frozen ; the sun was down, a quarter-moon shone overhead, 
and the keen nor'west wind blew in my face. I had 
known no winter for three years, and the bracing stimulus 
of the cold was almost as novel as it was refreshing. Pre- 
sently I recognized the boundaries of my property — yes, I 
actually possessed a portion of the earth's surface ! After 
all, I thought, possession — at least so far as IN'ature is con- 
cerned — means ^mi^lj protection. This moonlit wilderness 
is not more beautiful to my eyes than it was before ; but I 
have the right, secured by legal documents, to preserve its 
beauty. I need not implore the woodman to spare those 
trees : I'll spare them myself. This is the only difference 
in my relation to the property. So long as any portion of 
the landscape which pleases me is not disturbed, I possess 
it quite as much as this. 

During these reflections, I had reached the foot of the 
ridge. A giant tulip-tree, the honey of whose blossoms I 
had many a time pilfered in boyhood, crowned the slope, 
drooping its long boughs as if weary of stretching them in 
welcome. Behind it stood the oaks, side by side, far along 
the road. As I reached the first tree the wind, Avhich 
had fallen, gradually swelled, humming through the bare 
branches until a deep organ-bass filled the wood. It was 
a hoarse, yet grateful chorus of welcome — inarticulate, yet 



8 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

intelligible. " Welcome, welcome home !" went booming 
through the trees, " welcome, our master and our pre- 
server ! See, with all the voice we can catch from the 
winds, we utter our joy ! For now there is an end to fear 
and suspense : he who knows us and loves us spreads over 
us the shelter of his care. Long shall we flourish on the 
hill : long shall our leaves expand in the upper air ; long 
shall our grateful shadows cover his path. "We shall hail 
his coming from afar : our topmost boughs will spy him 
across the valleys, and whisper it to the fraternal woods. 
We are old ; we never change ; we shall never cease to 
remember and to welcome our master !" 

So the trees were first to recognize me. Listening to 
their deep, resonant voices, (which I would not have 
exchanged for the dry rattle of a hundred-league-long 
forest of tropical palms,) I was conscious of a new sensation, 
which nothing but the actual sight of my own property 
could have suggested. I felt like a tired swimmer when he 
first touches ground — like a rudderless ship, drifting at the 
will of the storm, when her best bower takes firm hold — 
fike a winged seed, when, after floating from bush to bush, 
and from field to field, it drops at last upon a handful of 
mellow soil, and strikes root. My life had now a point 
cTappui^ and, standing upon these acres of real estate, it 
seemed an easier thing to move the world. A million in 
bank stock or railroad bonds could not have given me the 
same positive, tangible sense oi property. 

When I walked over my fields (yes — actually my fields!) 
the next day, this sensation returned in an almost ridiculous 
excess. " You will of course cut down that ugly old tree," 



A COUNTRY HOME IX AMEEICA. S 

said some one. It impressed me very much as if I had been 
told : " That chapter in yom- book is inferior to the others 
— tear it out !" or, " Your little finger is crooked • have it 
amputated !" Why, even the sedge-grass and sumacs — how 
beautiful they were ! Could 1 ever make uj) my mind to 
destroy them ? As for the cedars, the hawthorn, the privet, 
the tangled masses of climbing smilax — no, by the bones of 
Belshazzar, they shall stand ! "This field will not be worth 
much for grain." Well — what if it isn't ? " Everything is 
wild and neglected — it wants clearing, sadly." Everything 
is grand, beautiful, charming : there is nothing like it ! So 
ran the course of remark and counter-remark. I did not 
suffer my equanimity to be disturbed ; was I not sole 
owner, appellator, and disposer of all ? N'or did the trees 
appear to be sensible of the least fear. They leaned their 
heads against one another in a sort of happy, complacent 
calm, as if whispering : " It's all right : let us enjoy the sun- 
shine ; he'll take care of us !" 

Yes, one cannot properly be considered as a member of 
the Brotherhood of Man, an inhabitant of the Earth, until 
he possesses a portion of her surface. As the sailors say, he 
stays, he don't actually live. The Agrarians, Communists, 
Socialistic Levellers, and Flats of all kinds, are replenished 
from the ranks of the non-owners of real estate. Banks 
break ; stocks and scrips of all kinds go up and down on 
the financial see-saw; but a fee-simple of solid earth is 
S^^ There ! You see it, you feel it, you walk over it. It is 
yours, and your children's, and theii- progeny's (unless mort* 
gaged and sold through foreclosure) lAitil the Millennium. 

And this is how I came to buy a Farm. 

1^ 



10 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

2.— "Free Soil." 

"Foe and in consideration of the sum of dollars, 

good and lawful money of the state of , I, the aforesaid 

A. B., do hereby convey and transfer to the aforesaid C. D., 
etc.. etc., his heirs, executors, or assignees, all my right, 
title, and interest in the aforesaid messuage and tract of 
land," etc., etc. The signatures, duly witnessed, the decla- 
ration of the wife, alone in the presence of the magistrate, 
that she had signed the deed of her own free will, without 
compulsion on the part of her husband, even the note of 

registry in the Registrar's office of county, were all 

there. The stiff phrases and redundant tautology of the 
law, once so absurd, now seemed highly exact and appro- 
priate. Ought not the casket which holds my property to 
be so thoroughly wrapped and cemented, that not a rat 
shall find^ahole to creep through? Certes, fifty folios were 
not too much to secure my right of possession ! Let all the 
synonyms in the English language be exhausted — so much 
the better. Mrs. Browning tells somebody to say to her : 
" ' Love me, love me, love me,' in silver iteration," and what 
is true of one kind of love, is true of all kinds. If the deed 
had simply stated that C. D. had " bought" the land of A. B., 
I do not think I should have been satisfied. But this luscious 
lingering upon the circumstance, ringing it over and over 
upon all words which had a remote approach to the mean- 
ing — conveyed, transferred, made over, disposed of, invested 
with, deeded to, grailted, given, empowered — what fulness 
and richness, what vitality and certainty it gave to the act ! 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 11 

I repeat it, the only positive property is real estate. Xot 
only in imagination, but also in fact. You may hold in your 
hand a hundred thousand dollars in bank-notes ; a sudden 
puff of wind surprises you, and whisk ! away they go. Or 
you may fall into the water, and they are reduced to a 
worthless pulp — or the house burns down, and your notes, 
and jewels, and mortgages, are consumed with it. But who 
ever heard of an estate being blown away, or burned up, or 
carried off by an absconding defaulter? Did any man ever 
see a counterfeit farm? The market value of land may 
fluctuate considerably, but, unless IN'ature is subjected 
to violence and outrage, its intrinsic value never varies. 
It always possesses the same capabilitieSj if not the same 
qualities. 

There is one feature at least — and, to me, not the least 
important — wherein the bleakest barren is equal to the 
most bountiful intervale. Within its limits the proprietor 
is sovereign lord. He may build, tear down, excavate, fill 
up, plant, destroy, or do whatever else he mil. Yea, he 
may even (in our own country) write, speak, proselytize, 
establish a new religious sect, adopt another form of govern- 
ment — provided he still pays his taxes — and in every other 
way, compatible with the rights of his neighbors, give free 
play to the eccentricities of his individual nature. 

I, at least, in receiving the deed, determined that my land 
should be " Free Soil." Free to myself, free to my friends, 
free to all the world, — with certain restrictions to be herein- 
after specified. Before proceeding to these, let me note 
another feature of human nature, w^hich, as homo sum^ 
could not have failed to present itself without constituting 



12 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

me a higlily exceptional person. I forget whether it was 
on the first, second, or third visit I made to the .old farm, 
(I believe I went every day for the first w^eek,) when my 
satisfaction received a check. The ridge running through 
the property is the highest in the neighborhood, wath the 
exception of one immediately to the north, which conve- 
niently protects it from the cold winds of winter. My own 
ridge, therefore, commands an extensive view over the 
regions to the east, south, and w-est. Through the inlets 
of cedar-besprinkled lawn between the triple groves, I 
caught lovely glimpses of other valleys, between me and 
the distant purple hills. A line of post-and-rail was drawn 
across the middle ground of each picture — ^it was my line 
fence ! There my sovereignty ceased. 

My previous sense of possession, "This is mine," was 
immediately displaced by the unreasonable longing : " If all 
that were only mine !" Like the Frenchman, who, sitthig 
down to a crust of bread and a cup of water, and being 
unexpectedly presented with a bottle of wine, growled, 
" Peste ! vin ordinaire ! you might have given me Bur- 
gundy !" — or the child who gets an apple and then cries 
because he can't have six, I now wanted to feel myself the 
ow^ner of all the land within the range of vision. My pos- 
session w^as incomplete — it w^as only ^jiar^ of a landscape. 
Those forests w^hich now so beautifully feather the distant 
hills may be destroyed at the will of another. I have no 
power to preserve them. How fortunate are those large 
landholders in England, who can ride thh"ty miles in a 
straight line through their own property! They can mount 
the highest hill, and all which the rounded sky incloses- 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 13 

belongs to them — stream, forest, meadow, mountain, vil- 
lage, mills, and mines ! 

But presently an inner voice whispered : " Great estates 
are a curse. They flatter the selfish pride of one man, that 
a thousand others may be homeless. You, who rejoice in 
the soil you have just achieved, finding therein a better 
right to residence on the earth, would you crowd out others 
from the same privilege ? You, with your fields and groves, 
would you grudge the laborer his single acre, or yonder 
farmer his hill-sides, made dearer to him by the labors of 
his fathers for a hundred and fifty years ? Have you not soil 
enough for the exercise of your coveted freedom ? Were 
air the land yours, to the furthest hill, you would stand 
upon that, and extend your wishes to the next horizon. He 
has enough who makes a wise use of his property. Beware ! 
for there have been those, who, not satisfied with ten thou- 
sand acres, were reduced to seek contentment at last in six 
feet of earth !" 

Besides, I thought, this is but the outside of my farm. 
Possession is not merely the superficial area : it extends, 
legally, to the centre of the earth. I own, therefore, a nar- 
row strip of territory nearly four thousand miles in length! 
Truly I cannot travel to the end of my dominion ; what of 
that ? — I have no desire to do so. And above me, the seas 
of blue air, the dark, superimposing space — all is mine, half- 
way to the nearest star, where I join atmospheres with some 
far-off neighbor ! The scattered clouds, as they pass over, 
the rain, the rainbow, lightnings and meteoric fires, become 
my temporary chattels. Under my feet, what unknown 
riches may not exist! — beds of precious minerals, geodes 



14 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

of jewels, sparry caverns, sections of subterranean seas, and 
furnaces heated from the central fire! This is wealth 
which, indeed, would not be received as collateral security 
for a loan, but it is therefore none the less satisfactory to 
the imagination. 

Standing, once, on the lawn at Farringford, I congra- 
tulated Alfred Tennyson on the beauty of his view across 
the Solent, to the blue, wavy outline of the New Forest. 
" Yes," he answered, " but it wants another feature — three 
summits of perpetual snow, yonder !" pointing to the north- 
west. To make my landscape complete, not only those 
three peaks are required, (also in the northwest,) but a 
lake or a river in one of the intervening valleys. Until I 
can procure them, I construct temporary Alps from the 
masses of sun-gilded cumuli which settle along the western 
horizon, and flatter myself that I shall be able to see a dis- 
tant river from the top of my future house. The changes 
of the atmosphere — the shifting of some prevailing tone in 
the colors of the landscape — give me, virtually, the range 
of many lands. My property may lie in Norway, in Ame- 
rica, or in Andalusia : it depends upon the sky. Usually, 
however, it represents the midland vales of England — ^undu- 
lating, deep in the richest foliage, intersected with lanes of 
hawthorn and clematis, and dotted with old stone country- 
houses and capacious barns. The sentiment of the scenery 
is the same — order, peace, and home comfort. 

But I have wandered away from the proposed disposition 
of my farm. It is to be Free Soil, I have said — whereby I 
do not mean the narrower political, but the larger social 
sense of the phrase. If I am lord of my own acres, (as the 



A COUNTRY HOME IX AMERICA. 15 

politicians say, addressing their agricultural constituents,) 
I can certainly establish my own social laws. In the first 
place, I proclaim the decrees of Fashion, so far as dress is 
concerned, to be null and void, anywhere inside of my line- 
fence. No gentleman shall there be obliged to cut his 
throat with dog-collars, nor any lady to present the appear- 
ance of a smashed skull, by wearing the hideous new bonnet. 
Understand that I do not prescribe ; I merely abrogate : 
my guests are at liberty to wear the most frightful cos- 
tumes, if they please. I prefer beauty to deformity — that 
is all. 

Thought and speech (unnecessary profanity excepted, 
which, indeed, is not to be presumed of any of my guests) 
shall be as free as possible. My political, religious, or lite- 
rary antagonist, if he be not inadmissible on personal 
grounds, shall have free range of my woods and fields. 
Believing that men can only be justly estimated by their 
character, not by their opinions, I shall ask no man to 
declare himself on the foregoing points. I have been 
treated with brotherly kindness by pious Mussulmen and 
noble-hearted heathen : God forbid that I should possess a 
narrower soul than they ! There is one class of characters, 
however, which will be tolerated on no condition. Hypo- 
critical, insincere, titne-serving creatures, shams of all kinds, 
men with creaking boots, stealthy cat-step, oily faces, and 
large soft hands, (which they are always rubbing) — for such 
there is no entrance. To this class belong most of the 
Pharisees, who, it is needless to say, are excluded, severally 
and collectively. The other variety — the men with thin 
faces, bilious, sallow complexions and mouths depressed at 



16 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the corners, with a melancholy aridity of face — the huniar 
Saharas, in Tact — will not seek me. 

While I am upon the subject of Pi'ohibition, it occurs to 
me that there are two other classes of men to whom the 
taboo must necessarily be applied. Those who worship tl>e 
Golden Calf, to the exclusion of all other gods, are some- 
times men of acquirements, agreeable talkers, candid and 
consistent characters, even. Where their stinginess is 
hereditary or congenital, I can make great allowance for it. 
I could have torn down every fence to let Wordsworth in. 
Pope, who spent a thousand pounds on his garden, would 
be most welcome, were he living. But in these examples, 
the aesthetic sense was as fully developed as the acquisitive 
faculty. Where the latter predominates, without any 
counterbalancing grace of mind, it is sure to protrude hate- 
fully in all directions. My trees, for instance, would 
become so much standing lumber, my lawn a hay-field, my 
violets " trash," in the eyes of a genuine miser. My oaka 
would consider it an insult to be forced to cast their sum- 
mer shadow on such a head. 

At the outer gate I shall hang up a large board, with the 
inscription, "No Admittai^ce for Bores." Not that I 
expect it will do much good — for the Bore never seems to 
suspect that he is a bore. I have known some so pro- 
nounced in character that they might almost be classed 
under the genus Vampyre, who yet imagined themselves 
the most charming persons in the world. TJnexcej^tionably 
dressed, booted, gloved, and perfumed regardless of 
expense, they resembled automatic figures, and exhausted 
you in your attemjots to find a soul, or to infuse one into 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 17 

them. You may cry Procul^ procul! until you are 
hoarse. They draw all the nearer, complacently supposing 
that their parrot phrases are the certain " Open Sesame !" 
to your spiritual crypts. May my Dryads and Hamadry- 
ads — or, if these fail, my underground gnomes — find some 
spell to keep them off! If every other charm fails, I think 
I shall have a special chamber in my house for their accom- 
modation, a reproduction of the Falterkammer or torture- 
chamber of the Middle Ages, where they shall sleep 
between sackcloth sheets, breathe carbonic acid gas, and 
be visited at midnight by My Skeleton, which shall issue 
from its closet in the corner. I shall also assume a cha- 
racter for their benefit — ridicule their ideas, (if they have 
any,) shock their prejudices, (which they always have,) and 
so relieve myself of the disgust which I feel for them by 
making them disgusted with me. 

With the foregoing exceptions, all honest men and 
women are free to my soil. Antagonism does not preclude 
respect or admiration. I shall be happy to see Mr. H., the 
young Virginian Christian, feeling confident that he will 
not attempt to muzzle me, on my own ground. But of all 
visitors, that class described by Wordsworth in his " Poet's 
Grave" will be most welcome. The Poet, whether known 
or unknown, shall have the range of my pastures. He may 
come with his brother, the Artist, by his side : no questions 
will be asked : the gate will open of itself: the trees will 
drop their branches in salute, and if the house be built, 
banners will suddenly unfold from the topmost tower. 
They may lie in the tropical shade of sassafras trees or bury 
themselves in arbors of wild-grape ; listen to the song of 



18 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the wind in the pines, or track the hidden brook under its 
banks of concealing fern. I can number five poets, aheady, 
who have given their benediction to the landscape, and one 
of them whom Nature has taken to her heart as an accepted 
lover, said to me, in the hearing of my trees : " Spare them, 
every one !" With such guests, no secret beauty of my 
possession shall remain undiscovered. Every mind shall be 
associated with some new grace, some previously over- 
looked beauty, until I shall live, as in an island of a tropic 
sea, enringed with enchanted Warmth and bloom. 

Thus much may Life grant to me — but can I keep out 
the spectral visitors which enter every door ? Will not 
Care leap over my fence from her perch behind the horse- 
man ? Will not the tutelar deity of these United States — 
the goddess Worry — compel me to erect an altar for her 
worship ? Ah, me ! the soil that is free to light must be 
free also to shadow. The sun shines upon my southward- 
sloping lawn, but sometimes a gloomy rain comes over the 
northern hill. Well, if Care but come hand-in-hand with 
Cheerfulness — if the statue of Patience look with com- 
posed face upon the knit brows of Worry — my soil shall 
be free, even to the persecuting deities ! Like Polycrates, 
I shall now and then throw a ring into the sea. To enjoy 
the loan of Peace, which we borrow from a Power outside 
of this bankrupt world, we must pay an interest of at least 
ten per cent, of Trouble. 

But individual freedom is so rare a blessing as to be 
worth any price a man can pay. Therefore, whatever visi- 
tors take advantage of the open gate, no immunity would 
be quite so bad as a padlock. The gate shall stay open — 



A COUNTEY HOME IN AMERICA. 19 

nailed back, if need be, like the hospitable doors of Tartaiy 
— and the Soil shall be Free ! 



3. — The Building of a House. 

As a matter of course, when I bought the old farm^ it 
was with the expectation of building a house at some time 
or other. Not but that I was for the present satisfied to 
possess and protect the old trees, and to have a basis of 
reality for my airy architecture; but I also looked far 
ahead, and hoped, at least, that the necessity for a house 
would be among the fruits of Time. For, you understand, 
a house implies something more than — a house. IN'othing 
in this world should be done without a reason for it, and 
the true reason, which I could not give at that time, is one 
which can only come to a man through the favor of some 
benignant Fate. 

Nevertheless, it was pleasant to walk over the briery 
fields, and say : " In case I should build a house, here — or 
here — would be a good site for it." " Oh, not there," 
would some kind adviser suggest — "but here, in the 
wood." " Nearer the road, by all means," said another. 
" No, I should build on the foundations of the old house," 
was the opinion of a third. Nature, however, had fixed 
the true site too palpably to be mistaken, and the discovery 
of this fact saved me all discussion. Between my grove 
of oaks and the clumps of vine-entangled trees which had 
sprung up along the line of the old hedge-row, lay some 
ten acres of ground, sloping gently toward the south-east. 



20 AT nOME AND ABROAD. 

and dotted with the most charming groups of cedars which 
it is possible to imagine. In the centre thereof stood a 
single oak, with broad arms drooping mitil they touched 
the ground in a wide circle around its trunk. Further 
down were five scattered chestnut and hickory trees, a 
glossy gum, two maples, and a bowery Avilderness of haw- 
thorns, which, in May, rose like mounds of snow against 
the borders of another grove on the south. But in the 
gaps between these scattered trees and the groves on either 
hand, one could see the village on the hill-top, a mile away, 
and the soft blue slopes of other and higher hills in the 
distance. 

Here was a lawn, ready-made by Nature, such as half a 
century of culture could scarcely achieve elsewhere. To 
the north, where it reached the highest portion of the 
ridge, the ground was level and bare of trees, except a 
single group of walnuts, close at hand, and two colossal 
chestnuts, a little to the west. As the ground began to 
fall off northward, the cedars again made their appearance, 
increasing in number as they approached the edge of still 
another wood, which bounded my possessions on that side. 
On this ridge, crowning the natural lawn, sheltered on the 
north, open to the south-east and to the sunset, and sur- 
rounded with the noblest specimens of tree-beauty, was the 
place. Having once imagined a house there, it could 
not be removed. "Why," said I, "I have only to cut 
off these briers and turn the sedge-grass into sod, and 
the building of the house will transform this wildei-nesa 
into an ancient park, suggesting care and culture every, 
where — 



I 



A COUNTRY HOME IX AMERICA. 21 

" an English house, — gray twilight poured 

On dewy pastures, dewy trees. 
Softer than sleep — all things in order stored, 

A haunt of ancient Peace." 

Now, what kind of a house shall I build ? was the next 
question I asked myself; and I ran over in my mind the 
Grecian temples of some years ago, the misnamed Gothic 
of to-day, the Palladian, the Elizabethan, and the Non- 
descript (very popular), only building to tear down again, 
as I saw some incongruity, some want of adaptation to cli- 
mate, soil, and surroundings. Soon, however, I hit upon 
the truth, that, as the landscape was already made and the 
house was not, the former should give the character of the 
latter. I have no choice : I must build something that will 
seem to belong naturally to the lawn and the trees. Except 
in a city, where houses are the accessories of houses — often 
a mere blank background, against which you can paint 
anything — the situation of a dwelling must determine its 
architecture. The cottage that would be charming beside 
a willowy brook, is ridiculous behind an avenue of elms, and 
the mansion which dominates superbly over a broad and 
spacious landscape fails to impress you when built in a 
secluded valley. 

The community, I found, had settled the matter long 
before me. The house was to contain something of every 
style of architecture which I had seen in my wanderings 
over the world. There was to be a Grecian fa9ade, with 
one wing Gothic and the other Saracenic ; a Chinese pagoda 
at one corner, an Italian campanile at the other, and the 
pine-npple dome of a Hindoo temple between the chimneyS: 



22 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

The doors would be copied from Westminster Abbey, 
the windows from the Mosque of Omar, the ceilings from 
the Alhambra, and the staircases from the Mormon temple 
at Salt Lake. The material, of course, was to be a mixture 
of brick, granite, porcelain tiles, clap-boards, marble, 
adobes^ and porphyry. But a man's life and works, alas ! 
too often fail to realize the expectations of his friends. 

More than five years elapsed, from the time the property 
came into my possession, before I saw a good reason for 
making it habitable. When I came to think, seriously, 
upon the plan of a house which was to be built up w^ith no 
imaginary mortar, but hond fide lime and sand, I found 
that the true plan was already there, perhaps unconsciously 
suggested by the expectant trees. It must be large and 
stately, simple in its forms, without much ornament — in 
fact, expressive of strength and permanence. The old halls 
and manor-houses of England are the best models for such 
a structure, but a lighter and more cheerful aspect is 
required by our Southern summer and brighter sky. There 
must be large windows and spacious verandas for shade 
and air in summer, steep roofs to shed the rain and winter 
snow, and thick walls to keep out our two extremes of heat 
and cold. Furthermore, there must be a tower, large 
enough for use as well as ornament, yet not so tall as to 
belittle the main building. 

This much being settled, the next step was so to plan the 
interior arrangements that they should correspond to the 
external forms. The true way to build a house is to deter- 
mine even the minutest details before commencing the 
work. In any case, the interior is of paramount import 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 23 

ance, and it is better to get the rooms, staircases, closets, 
doors, and windows rightly arranged at first, and then 
inclose them with the external wall, than the reverse. 
Here, again, another subject claims our consideration — the 
furniture, which demands certain spaces and certain 
arrangements. In short, none of the appliances of domes- 
tic life can be overlooked. I was astounded— when I came 
to the downright work at last — to find what a multitude of 
interests it was necessary to harmonize. The soul of a 
house, after all, which is its character as a home, is of more 
importance than the body. 

I do not propose to take up the question of the internal 
details, as every man — or, rather, every man's wife — ^has, 
or ought to have, her own views of housekeeping, and its 
requirements. I had some general ideas, however, which 
I determined to carry out, and the result of my experi- 
ence, inasmuch as it has no reference to individual tastes, 
may be useful to others. 

I saw, in the first place, that the houses built in this cen- 
tury are generally much inferior, in point of comfort and 
durability, to those built in the last. Walls crack, roofs, 
leak, wood rots, plaster peels off, in a way that would have 
astonished our ancestors. I know of a house in Maryland, 
two hundred years old, the foundation wall of which, 
having been completely undermined at one corner for the 
purpose of building a vault, held together unmoved, sup- 
porting the weight of the house by lateral adhesion only 
Good mortar, then, was the first requisite : thick walls, the 
next : well-seasoned timber, the third. The shells erected 
in our cities, with mortar that crumbles and joists that 



!' 



24 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

4 

bend or crack, would not be tolerated in Europe. We 
build in the most expensive style possible — that is, so 
rapidly and slightly, that a house is ready to be pulled 
down at the end of twenty-five years, instead of being 
habitable at the end of five hundred. Here, then, is one 
error which I shall avoid. 

Moreover, once in a lifetime is often enough for most 
men to build. It is very little more trouble to build a 
large house than a small one, when one's hand is fairly in. 
As for running up a building proportioned to your present 
necessities, and then adding to it as your necessities enlarge, 
I set my face against it. Besides the repetition of a dis- 
tracting labor, the result is generally an incongruous mass, 
where both external beauty and internal convenience are 
sacrificed. I shall, therefore, I said, build larger than I 
need. Better have a few empty chambers for some years, 
than build a second time. 

With regard to the material, a stone house is the most 
beautiful and durable, and, if the external walls have a 
hollow chamber (as they always should have), as dry and 
comfortable as any other. I scarcely know a more ai:)pro- 
priate house for the country than a rough, irregular stone- 
wall, with dressed quoins, projecting a little beyond it. 
My choice, however, has to be directed by other considera- 
tions. There are both limestone and hornblende in the 
immediate neighborhood, and within six miles quarries 
of serpentine ; but I have a bed of excellent clay in one 
of my own fields. The expense of hauling the stone, in a 
hilly country, would alone equal the cost of the brick. 
Some architect has said, that the color of a house should 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 25 

always have some resemblance to that of the soil upon 
which it stands — which is really a very good general rule : 
then why not also, if you can, get the material for your 
house out of the soil ? Some rocks of gray, silvery sand- 
stone which cropped out on the ridge at the edge of the 
oak-wood, promised to furnish me with the loveliest mate- 
rial, but after furnishing just enough for the foundation- 
walls, the deposit suddenly ceased. 

After much deliberation I decided upon brick, with 
stone quoins. The clay, to my great satisfaction, had a 
pale purplish tinge when burned, instead of the usual 
glaring red, and harmonized admirably with the bluish- 
gray granite of the corners. There was such an abundance 
of it that I felt entirely free to carry out my ideas with 
regard to strength and durability. I therefore fixed the 
thickness of the walls at two feet, including a hollow cham- 
ber of an inch and a half, and the thickness of the inner 
partition-walls (which were also of brick) at one foot. 
The latter, besides being fire-proof and almost impervious 
to sound, proved to be as cheap in the end as studs and 
laths. The result has satisfied me that no house can be 
truly comfortable unless the walls are thick, with a hollow 
chamber, or at least firred on the inside. The latter plan, 
however, does not always insure complete dryness. On 
the other hand, I have heard of one brick wall of thirteen 
inches, which proved to be quite dry ; but in this case the 
mortar was of the best quality. The additional thickness 
of the wall would be paid for in a few years by the saving 
in fuel, in many parts of the country. 

For the finishing of the rooms there is nothing equal to 



26 AT HOME AXD A13R0AL». 

the native wood, sim^Dly oiled to develop the beauty of the 
grain. Even the commonest pine, treated in this way, has 
a warmth and lustre, beside which the dreary white paint, 
so common even in the best houses, looks dull and dead. 
Nothing gives a house such a cold uncomfortable air as 
white paint and white plaster. This color is fit only for 
the tropics. Our cheap, common woods — pine, ash, chest- 
nut, oak, maple, beech, walnut, butternut — offer us a 
variety of exquisite tints and fibrous patterns, which, until 
recently, have been wholly disregarded in building. Even 
in furniture, we are just beginning to discover how much 
more chaste and elegant are oak and walnut than maho- 
gany. The beauty of a room is as dependent on the har- 
mony of its coloring as that of a picture. Some of the 
ugliest and most disagreeable apartments I have ever seen, 
were just those which contained the most expensive furni- 
ture and decorations. 

My experience shows that a room finished with the best 
seasoned oak or walnut costs actually less than one finished 
with pine, painted and grained in imitation of those woods. 
Two verandas of yellow pine, treated to two coats of boiled 
oil, have a richness and beauty of color beyond the reach 
of pigments ; and my only regret connected with the house 
is, that I was persuaded by the representations of mecha- 
nics, to use any paint at all. 

There is another external feature which the brilliancy 
of our sunshine not only suggests, but demands. Heliefis 
an absolute requirement. Most houses should have, not 
only a cornice proportioned to their dimensions and in 
keeping with their character, but string-pieces between the 



A COUNTRY HOME IX AMERICA. 2l 

stories, and window-caps and sills projecting sufficiently to 
cast a shade. I found also, that an excellent effect could 
be obtained, without additional expense, by setting the 
windows and doors in raised panels of brickwork, project- 
ing two or three inches from the face of the wall. For the 
string-pieces, a simple row of dentils, formed by setting 
out alternate bricks, can be made by the most ordinary 
workman. Design, not cost, is the only difference between 
a fine house and a poor one. The same material used in 
building the plainest and dreariest cube called a house, 
may be cast into a form which shall charm every one by 
its elegance and fitness. I have seen very beautiful villas 
— the residences of wealthy families — on the islands of the 
Neva, at St. Petersburg, which were built entirely of un- 
hewn logs, exactly of equal size, barked, dovetailed at the 
corners, and painted the color of the wood. Such a house, 
with a rustic veranda of unbarked limbs, overgrown with 
our wild ivy or clematis, would make a more beautiful and 
appropriate farmer's home than a brown-stone palace. 

Let me give one more hint, derived from my experience, 
to those who may be contemplating a little private archi- 
tecture. Get all the estimates from the various mechanics, 
add them together, and increase the sum total by fifty per 
cent., as the probable cost of your undertaking; but do not 
say what the real cost is until everything is finished. Then 
you will know. Even the estimates of the most experi- 
enced workmen, I have found, are not to be depended 
upon. It is the little ills of life that wear us out ; and it is 
likewise the little expenses that empty our purses. 

However, let me content myself that another requisition 



28 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

of tlie Italian proverb is fulfilled — that the house is built, 
and likely to stand for two or three centuries, when, in all 
probability, the inscribed stone over its portal will be the 
only memorial of the name of its builder. That, however, 
does not concern me. While I live, I trust I shall have 
my trees, my peaceful, idyllic landscape, my free country 
life, at least half the year, and while I possess so much, 
with the ties out of which all this has grown, I shall own 
100,000 shares in the Bank of Contentment, and consider 
that I hold a second Mortgage Bond on the Railroad to 
the Celestial City. 



4. — Results and Suggestions. 

Now that my house has been inhabited for upwards of 
eighteen months — that sedge and briers have vanished from 
the lawn, and thick green English grass is usurping the 
place of mullein and white-weed ; that, high over the spot 
where I once Avalked and dreamed, I now sit and write — it 
may be well to report, confidentially, to my friends, on the 
result of the j)lans already laid before them. A kite of 
fancy always flies more steadily when it is weighted by a 
tail-bob of fact. Let no reader presume that the foregoing 
papers are merely imaginative. Every object I have named 
I can still exhibit in proof, except the lower boughs of my 
solitary lawn-oak which a murderous farmer cut off during 
my absence. The cedars unpruned, but cleared of the 
choking wilderness and given a smooth base to stand upon, 
are the admiration of strangers. But a single tree in the 
grOve has been felled — not by my orders. The bees had 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 29 

chosen one of its hollow limbs for their hive, and some un- 
known wretch, whom I have not yet forgiven, sawed the 
stately trmik asunder on a dark midnight, ruining for ever 
the work of three hundred years ! The lightning has cut 
a deep gash in my tallest tulip-tree from crown to root, and 
the patriarchal chestnuts have lost some boughs in a storm; 
but they still retain their twenty-four feet of girth, hang 
themselves with mealy tassels in June, and feed our squir- 
rels when the burrs crack open in the early frost. 

Meantime, our store of associations has been enriched by 
two discoveries. The muck having been removed from a 
swamp in the edge of a piece of primitive woodland, we 
found underneath a compact bed of gravel and blue clay, 
in which, four feet below the surface, the pick unearthed 
the guard of a sword-hilt. It was of hammered brass, 
straight and simple in form, with no feature by which its 
origin could be determined. T am pretty sure, however, 
that it is Swedish. More than two hundred years ago, the 
troopers of Gustavus Adolphus landed on the banks of the 
neighboring river ; and this relic, doubtless, tells of some 
party of exploration sent inland from the fortress of the 
giant Printz on Tinicum • island. A hundred and thirty 
years later, the armies of Howe and Cornwallis plundered 
my farm, on the morning of the Brandywine battle, and it 
is also possible that the guard may date from that incur- 
sion. I prefer the older and more interesting conjecture. 

One morning, before the house was built, we were sur- 
prised at finding that two large holes had been dug during 
the night near our clump of walnut-trees, at the corner of 
the ancient garden. Who the excavator was, we have never 



30 AT IIOilE AN^D ABROAD. 

been able to discover, but he was probably some person of 
the neighborhood who had kept the tradition of the buried 
treasure. That he had found nothing, was evident, and 
the fact of the attempt gave so much color to the tradition 
that I was really very glad it had been made. I can now 
say, with tolerable assurance, " somewhere near this spot 
lies the treasure" — but I shall take good care not to dig for 
it, lest I should not find it. The story is, that one Fitzpa- 
trick (properly known as " Fitz,") a noted highwayman, 
who was the terror of collectors seventy years ago, had a 
lair in the neighboring woods, and secreted a portion of his 
spoils on the old farm. His arrest was so unexpected, and 
he was so carefully guarded until his execution, that he had 
no opportunity of imparting the secret to his confederates. 
The attempt to discover the treasure so long afterwards, 
shows that the story must have been vory generally 
believed. 

The house stands as I have said, and the farm is gra- 
dually assuming an aspect of olden culture. One would 
never guess the wilderness it so recently was. Fifty years 
of neglect have done for me what twenty years of careful 
landscape gardening could not accomplish. The groups of 
dark southern cedars suggest the planting of a hand guided 
by as true a taste as Downing's ; yet they have been so 
little disturbed that my brood of owls still sit there in the 
summer evenings and hoot their melancholy music. We 
have placed a rude table and seats under the walnuts, and 
lo ! they seem to have been the bower of generations. The 
bunches of blue and white violets, set in among the grass 
on a sunny bank, come up in the spring as naturally as if 



A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 31 

they had grown there for a thousand years. Nature repays 
with boundless gratitude the smallest attention of her 
lovers. She seems to know every point of finish that is 
necessary for her own completeness, and devotes a special 
energy to the employment of the offered help. Difficult as 
it is to force her into new and unusual developments, no- 
thing is easier than to lead her towards the beauty which 
she herself suggests. 

Of the pines and firs which I planted along my northern 
boundary, not one in fifty died, and their growth has been 
so constant and luxurious as to assure me that they feel 
themselves to be in their true position. The larches in the 
openings of the grove are no less satisfied with their places, 
and I have already discovered spots which the elm, the 
purple beech, and the magnolia, will at once recognize and 
appropriate. The experience of a year satisfies me that the 
cedar of Lebanon, the deodar of the Himalayas, the Japan- 
ese cryptomeria^ and the gigantic sequoia of California, can 
be acclimated to my lawn. The deciduous cypress of the 
Southern States is a near neighbor ; the magnolia grandi- 
flora needs but a slight protection through the winter, and 
I am not without hopes of the live-oak. The ridge on 
which my house is built, I find, is much more favorable to 
the growth of delicate trees and plants than are the deep 
and sheltered valleys on either side. The early and late 
frosts scarcely touch us, and the extreme cold of winter, 
besides being dry in its character, is never of long duration. 
On this very 25th of November, the geraniums, the pome- 
granates, and the golden-belled arbutilon are still growing 
in the open air. My latitude, I should explain, is 39" 50'. 



32 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

I liQpe all builders of houses will be as well satisfied 
with their work as I am with mine. Not that the plan 
might not have been bettered in many ways. There never 
yet was a house built which its owner could pronounce 
incapableof further improvement. Further, no new house 
ever stood a year without certain repairs being necessary. 
Build as you may, a violent storm will disclose to you the 
fact, that there is one leak in the roof; one chimney will 
smoke when the wind is in a certain direction ; one window 
will rattle o' nights, and one door warp so that the bolt 
fails to shoot clear. But in the main requisitions, there is 
success : the thickness of the walls baffles alike cold, heat, 
and moisture. Storms war around us, and we sit in a 
calm, dry, pure air. We kindle our fires in the autumn a 
fortnight later than our neighbors, and let them go out a 
fortnight earlier, in the spring. In a southern room, which 
W'as not heated, the thermometer did not fall below 38°, 
during the whole of last winter, and the hardier green- 
house j^lants throve finely. In fact, when the sun shines, 
fire is scarcely necessary in the rooms ^ that look towards 
him. 

In summer, though the shadow of no tree touches the 
house, it holds a core of coolness in the midst of the 
fiercest heat. The sun, unchecked, may exercise his whole- 
some chemistry. The morning pours into our windows 
a vitalizing torrent of light, until the air feels crisp 
with electric vigor : the deep verandas give us shade as 
the day advances, and keep it until the sunset strikes 
under them from the opposite side. We thus receive 
the beneficent influences of light^we keep free space for 



A COUNTRY HOME IX AMERICA. 33 

the enjoyment of cloud- scenery, and the colors of morn- 
ing and evening — without being obliged to take the glare 
and heat with it. I have always considered that the 
masses of foliage in which most of our country-homes are 
buried, are prejudicial to the health of the occupants. 
They are necessary, no doubt, as a protection, botb sum- 
mer and winter, in the absence of thick w^alls. A cottage 
low enough to loolc under a tree, may stand beside one ; 
a large mansion should have trees near it, but not so close 
as to hide the out-look from its windows. 

Notwithstanding I am so new a resident on my own 
acres, I have already hoarded up quite a store of sug- 
gestions as to what may be done. I perceive ways by 
which I can lure the returning Spring to my doors, in ad- 
vance of her season, mitigate the green monotony of Sum- 
mer, arrange in harmonies or splendid contrasts the scat- 
tered colors of Autumn, and even contrive a remedy for the 
bleakness of Winter. There are quaky patches I can drain, 
and groups of living springs, which I can collect into a 
pond. There are unsightly features to be hidden, and gaps 
to be opened for fairer views — here, a bit of rough land to 
be smoothed and rounded ; there, a wild briery clump to be 
spared for some possible future office in the scenery. The 
successful commander must know his men, and the gar- 
dener, likewise, must have an intimate personal acquaint- 
ance with his trees and plants. If you want a certain duty 
performed, you must select the individual best fitted to dis- 
charge it. I really believe that plants will grow better 
when they are set out in accordance with true taste, than 
when taste is violated. A weeping-willow, with its pen- 

2* 



34 AT HOME AND ABROAD 

dent, swaying tresses, suggesting reliance and dependence, 
would be ridiculously out of place on the summit of a cliif, 
and it will not grow there. A beech is handsomest in 
gror^s, and it does not thrive so well singly : an oak is 
most perfect when alone, or at a respectful distance from 
its brethren. The sassafras is loveliest when it is wedded 
to the wild-grape, and neither party languishes in the 
union. 

Hence follows a rule, simple enough, but which cannot 
be repeated too often. Do nothing in a hurry. Above all, 
lift the axe twenty times before you strike once. Do not 
remove a tree, until you have studied it for a whole year — 
until you have seen its autumnal as well as its summer hue, 
and looked through its bare boughs to see whether the 
objects behind it would be a gain or a loss to the eye. 
Whenever you plant, take a mental picture of the full- 
grown tree, with its individual form and color ; place it in 
the spot, and compare it with the surroundings. Substi- 
tute other trees, in your mind, so as to suggest a different 
effect. Be as patient, if you like, and as hard to suit as a 
girl in selecting the ornaments for her hair, on the evening 
of her first ball. Every time you walk over your grounds, 
perform this imaginary process of planting, until you accus- 
tom yourself to see trees, and study their effects in advance 
of their growth. Then, when you plant, you may plant 
deep and sure, with a tolerable certainty that your tree will 
grow and be a credit to you. 

These practices have taught me the capabilities (an auc- 
tioneer's word) of the country everywhere. The superior 
beauty of England is owing to no inherent superiority of 



A COUNTKY HOME IN AMERICA. 35 

soil, vegetation, or climate; it is simply development^ as 
contrasted with our transition state. Here, one sees frag- 
ments of the wilderness all through the oldest settled States : 
wood-sides, where the tall naked trunks show that the axe 
has shaped their boundaries ; spindly trees without indivi- 
duality left standing where woods have been cut away, or 
stretches of field and meadow Avithout a tree. We lack 
nothing which England possesses, but her fresh," perennial 
turf. Our tree-forms are finer, and infinitely more varied, 
as the forms of our scenery are grander. But those who 
will see America in her .developed beauty will be our 
descendants a hundred years hence. 

Thus, you see, the day-dreams I spun about the old farm 
long ago, are actually realized. N'or have the later dreams 
deceived me. The trees are protected, the house is built, 
and the soil is free ! The poet and the artist have tested 
their right to admittance ; the Bore and the Pharisee have 
shunned my gates. A few clumps of shrubbery will soon 
hide my line-fence from sight, and I shall then possess the 
entire landscape. The flag of the undivided Union floats 
from my tower, and no traitor's footstep has yet blackened 
my door-sill. So much has been changed from the airy 
coinage of the brain into the hard ringing gold of actual 
life, that I have no right to grieve if a piece turns out to 
be counterfeit, now and then. God is bountiful just in pro- 
portion as men are able to see His bounties. 

I have often, at sea, gone on deck in a dark, rainy night, 
and looked abroad into the wild confusion of wind and 
wave, the chaos of the fatal elements, where life is instantly 
swallowed up. Yet, under my feet, inclosed within the 



36 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

hollow timbers, were warmth, and light, and gay trium- 
phant life — a shell of immortal existence rushing onward 
through darkness, over the surface of death. It seems to 
me no less miraculous that I have been able to inclose a 
portion of the common atmosphere, so that heat, cold, wind, 
and rain, must turn aside and pass it by — a warm region 
of secure life which they cannot wither or blow away. 
Every house is such a miracle — a geode, which, however 
rough on the outside, beaten by the unkhid elements, may 
cover the hollow calm in which jewels ripen. Not unrea- 
sonably did the old Romans adopt their lares and penates. 
Every home attests the presence of the Divinity that works 
through man. But our Lar shall be a Christian goddess, 
crowned with amaranth and olive ; and on the borders of 
her garment shall be written, " Content." 



II. 

NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 



1. — San Francisco, after Ten Years 

When I first landed in San Francisco, on the 18th of 
August, 1849, I was put ashore on a clay bank, at the foot 
of Clark's Hill. I saw before me a large encampment of 
tents and canvas houses, among which some wooden build- 
ings arose with an air of ostentation. For the fee of two 
dollars, a Mexican carried my trunk to the Plaza, where I 
found quarters in the loft of an adobe building — a rude 
bed, and three meals of beefsteak, bread, and cofiee, at 
thirty-five dollars per week. The town was already laid 
out, however, and there was much speculation in buildhig- 
lots. About a dozen streets had assumed a visible outline, 
but beyond the chaotic encamj)ment rose, bleak and barren, 
a semi-circle of high sand-hills, covered with stunted chap- 
' p^ral. The population of the place was about 5,000. 

On the 28th of August, 1859— -ten years and ten days 



38 AT HOilE AND ABROAD. 

later — ^I found, instead of the bay between Rincon and 
Clark's Point, spacious and well-built streets, completely 
covering the former anchorage for smaller vessels. From 
the water-front — which forms a chord across the mouth of 
the lost harbor — stretched fifteen massive piers out into the 
bay. The low ground in front of us was crowded with 
warehouses and manufactories, as the tall brick chimneys 
denoted ; while up the heights behind, stretched row after 
row of dwellings, and the diverging lines of streets, to the 
very summits of the four hills. Our steamer drew up to 
the end of a pier, and made fast ; we were immediately 
saluted with the cries of hackmen and omnibus drivers ; 
runners with hotel cards jumped aboard ; residents (no 
longer dressed in flannel-shirts, revolver-belts, and wide- 
awakes) came down to welcome returning friends — in fact, 
there was not a Califoi*nian feature about the picture, if I 
except the morning-blanket of gray fog, which the hills of 
the Coast Range never kick off until nine or ten o'clock. 
There were no wash-bowls to be seen ; no picks ; no tents ; 
no wonderful patent machines ; no gold-dust. 

The scene upon which I looked was altogether unfamiliar 
to my eye. Flags in the breeze, church-spires, fantastic 
engine-houses, gay fronts of dwellings, with the animation 
of the holiday crowds in the streets below, gave the city a 
gay Southern aspect. Unlike all other American towns, 
there was nothing neio in its appearance. The clouds of 
sand and dust, raised by the summer monsoon, speedily 
wear off the gloss and varnish of newly-erected buildings, 
and give them a mellow tone of age and use — the chara€-^' 
teristic, as well as the charm of Mediterranean jDorts. 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALirOR:NIA. 39 

Without the evidence of my own experience, I should 
have found it impossible to believe that I looked upon the 
product of ten years. 

When the fog had rolled off seaward, and the soft, pale- 
blue sky of San Francisco arched over the beryl plain of 
the bay and its inclosing purple mountains, I experienced a 
mighty desire to shake off the lethargy of a tropical voyage 
by a drive into the country. I took the precaution, how- 
ever, to ask what such a luxury would cost. "Twenty 
dollars, probably," was the answer. Here I began to 
realize that I had reached Cahfornia. Nevertheless, I was 
about to order a vehicle, when a friend placed his own 
private team at my disposal. We were advised to take the 
new San Bruno road, which had recently been opened 
beyond the mountain of that name, in order to afford a 
shorter and more agreeable road to San Jose than the old 
trail over the hills. 

The restless, excited, ultra-active condition of mind and 
body engendered (in myself, at least,) by the San Francisco 
air, can only be cured, homoeopathically, by draughts of 
the same. People work here as they work nowhere else 
in the world. The nor'west wind, flavored with Pacific 
salt, which draws through the Golden Gate every day at 
noon, sweeps away not only disease, but sloth, despondency, 
and stupidity. Bulwer says : " On horseback I am Caesar, 
I am Cicero!" — but that afternoon, when I saw again the 
Mission Yalley, and first breathed the heavenly odor of the 
Yerha 3uena^ sitting behind a span of noble bays, I was 
Homer, Pindar, Alexander the Great, Peter tlie Great, 
Milo of Crotona, and General Jackson, all in one ! 



40 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

"We drove through an enchanted land. I thought I had 
been there before, yet everything I saw was as new to me 
as it was to my companion. Our hotel stood without the 
bounds of the San Francisco of 1849. Well I remembered 
the three miles of loose sand and thorny chapparal which 
intervened between the ridge terminating in Rincon Point 
and the Mission of Dolores. Now we drove for half a 
mile down a broad well-built street. Here and there, 
behind the houses, lowered a mound of yellow sand, like 
the scattered forces of a desert kept at bay and but half 
conquered. The rear of Clay-street Hill, dotted over with 
small square cottages, resembled Earth's picture of Tim- 
buctoo. But the Mission Valley, in front of us, green and 
lovely, with a background of purple mountains, was a 
reminiscence of the fairest scenery of Greece. "Now," 
said I, " have I found the original type of the landscapes 
of California !'» She has been compared to Italy — to Syria, 
with more correctness — ^but her true antetype in nature is 
Greece. 

Even the vegetation had undergone a change since my 
first visit. Along the streets, in rows, grew the exquisite 
feathery acacia; from the balconies, fuchsias hung their 
pendants of coral and sapphire ; heliotropes wantoned in 
immense clumps under the windows ; and the fronts of 
some of the cottages were hidden to the eaves in the 
scarlet splendor of geraniums. The maloa^ here a tree, 
opened its hundreds of pink blossoms : the wild jDca-vine 
of Australia clambered over the porticoes, and the willowy 
eucalyptus flourished as if in its native soil. The marshy 
thickets near the mouth of Mission Creek had vanished, 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 41 

and vegetable gardens filled their place; on either hand 
were nurseries, breathing of mignonette and violets, and 
covered, chin^deep, with superb roses — huge bouquets of 
which were offered us by boys, along the road, at " two 
bits" apiece. German beer and music gardens, the French 
Hospital, a sugar refinery, and groups of neat, suburban 
residences, which extended even beyond the Mission, com- 
bined to give the valley an old, long-settled air. 

Near the top of the hill, behind the Mission building, Avas 
a spot which I looked for with a curious uiterest. In 1849, 
I had taken up a claim there, had paid for the survey, and, 
for aught I could learn, acquired as secure a title as most 
others in San Francisco. My tract contained about two 
acres — part of which was stony, and all of which was barren : 
there was neither grass nor water, but a magnificent pros- 
pect. At that time, I could scarcely say that I owned any- 
thing ; and the satisfaction which I felt in sitting upon one 
of my rocks, and contemplating the view from my imagined 
front-window, amply repaid me for the surveyor's fee. 
Where the documents are, I have not the least idea : whe- 
ther the claim was ever worth anything is exceedingly 
doubtful ; but I noticed with exultation that nobody had 
as yet built upon it. I herewith magnanimously present 
the property to the first man who shall be absurd enough 
(in all eyes but mine) to build the house I imagined, and 
enjoy the view I admired. And this shall be sufficient to 
him, his heirs, executors, and assigns, to have and to hold, 
etc., etc. 

Crossing the Mission Creek, the road kept on, over roll- 
in*^ hills, toward the San Bruno mountain. On either side 



42 AT HOME AKD ABROAD. 

were farms — the fields divided by substantial fences of red- 
wood, the houses small and one-storied, but sufficiently com- 
fortable, and the gardens luxuriant with vegetables. The 
landscape was dotted with windmillsj which are very gene- 
rally used for irrigation, and form a marked feature in the 
agricultural sc,enery of California. About six miles from 
the city, we came upon a hill, divided by a narrow valley 
from the San Bruno range. The mountains, lighted by the 
oblique rays of the afternoon sun, gleamed in the loveliest 
play of colors. The tawny hue of the grass and wild oats, 
brightening into lines of clear gold along the edges of the hills 
buttressing their base, brown on their fronts, and dark in 
the sloping ravines, resembled velvet of the richest texture ; 
while the farther peaks — pink in light, and violet in shade — 
gave the contrast of a delicate silk. A grove of live-oaks — 
slanting away from the wind in such curious attitudes of 
haste, that they seemed to be scampering at full speed over 
the hill — stood in the foreground, while on our left the 
transparent green of the bay shifted through blue into pur- 
ple, far off. For aerial beauty and harmony of color, I have 
never seen anything to surpass this view, except in Greece. 
My first walks through San Francisco were devoted to 
the search for some old landmark — some wooden, iron, or 
copper house which had been standing in 1849. But I was 
disappointed : there was nothing which I recognized. 
Four great fires had swept away the temporary structures, 
which had cost almost their weight in silver, and stately 
houses of brick or granite stood in their places. Montgo- 
mery street — which is now, as it was then, the centre of 
business — would be considered a handsome, well-built street 



NEW PICTUKES FROM CALIFORNIA. 43 

anywhere ; while the other main avenues, although abound- 
ing in cheaply-built and hastily-erected wooden edifices, 
partake, at least, of the same character of life and activity. 
San Francisco, with its population of 80,000, has already 
the stamp of the great metropolis which it is destined 
to be. 

Everywhere change ! I went to the plaza, which I last 
saw inclosed by gaming-hells on three sides, and the TJ. S. 
Custom House on the fourth. The flimsy structures of '49 
had vanished like an exhalation — even the old adobe, with 
its tiled roof, representing the early days of California, was 
gone. In place of the Parker House stood a City Hall, of 
Australian freestone. A lofty, irregular mass of buildings 
had arisen on all sides, dwarfing the square, which, sur- 
rounded by a heavy iron railing, and devoted entirely to 
threadbare turf and some languishing, dusty trees, had a 
prim and respectable air, truly ; yet I missed the rude, fan- 
tastic, picturesque, unrestrained life wherewith it was filled 
ten years ago. The old Post-Office had almost passed out 
of memory, and a structure much more massive and spa- 
cious than our lubberly city of 'New York can boast of 
(which must be content with the most inconvenient little 
church this side of the Atlantic), is now devoted to Mails 
and Customs. From all parts of the city rise the spires of 
churches and engine-houses, showing that the most ample 
provision has been made for the quenching of both spiritual 
and temporal fires. To complete the climax of progress, 
San Francisco is more honestly governed than New York, 
has a more efficient police, and better guards the lives and 
property of her citizens. 



II 



44 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 



: 



It is unfortunate that the advice of an intelligent engineer 
could not have been taken, when the city was first laid out, 
and thus the advantages of its topography turned to better 
account. The people seem at first to have cherished the 
idea that the hills would ultimately be levelled, or, at least, 
their tops thrown into the hollows between, so as to pro- 
duce that uniformity of surface in which the American mind 
delights. Great excavations have been made at the foot 
of Telegraph Hill, but mainly for the purpose of running a [ 
street through to North Beach. The other hills, however, 
proved too formidable ; and the inhabitants have at last 
found out, perforce, that the slight inconvenience they occa 
sion is a hundredfold atoned for by the picturesque beauty 
they confer upon the city, and the charms which they 
give to a residence in it. Clay street Hill is but little short 
of four hundred feet in height, and the windows of the pri- 
vate houses on its side command the grandest views of the 
city, the bay, the Golden Gate, and the Mission Yalley. 
Had the streets been arranged terrace-wise along the hills, 
as in Genoa, they would not only have been more conve- 
nient, but far more beautiful. It is stiU not too late to 
remedy this mistake, in part. 

The view of San Francisco, from either Rincon or Tele- 
graph Hill, surpasses — I say it boldly — ^that of any other Ame- 
rican city. It has the noblest natural surroundings, and will, 
in the course of time, become the rival of Genoa, or Naples, 
or even Constantinople. From the breezy height of Rincon, 
the whole town lies before you, rising gradually from the 
water to the summit of the semi-circular sweep of hills. Its 
prevailing colors are gray, w^hite, yellow, and pale red ; 



XEW PICTUKES FKOM CALirORI^'IA. 45 

( 

|- while, at this distance, the very confusion and incongruity 
j of its architecture becomes an additional charm. Over 
I Telegraph Hill rise the dark-blue mountains of Angel Island 
j and Sousolito ; to the right stretches the bay, with the 
brown steeps of Yerba Buena guarding the anchorage; 
while beyond all, the mountains of Contra Costa, bathed in 
the loveliest golden and lilac tints, melt, far to the north and 
south, into the distant air. I have seen this landscape, with 
all its grand features, of a cold, dark, indigo hue, under 
heavy clouds — glittering with a gem-like brilliancy and play 
of color, under a clear sky, and painted — bay, islands, and 
shores — with the deepest crimson of sunset, till you seemed 
to look on a world smouldering in the fires of Doom. It 
was therefore no marvel to me, when nine out often of my 
old acquaintances said : " I have made up my mind to live 
and die here — I cannot be contented elsewhere.'' 

The first thing which attracts the notice of the stranger 
who arrives at San Francisco in summer, is probably the 
last thing w^hich he would expect to find in so recently-set- 
tled a country. The profusion, variety, and quality of the 
fruit which he sees displayed on all sides fills him with 
astonishment. What magic, he asks, has evoked from this 
new soil such horticultural splendors ? What undiscovered 
nutriment has fattened these plethoric apples? Whence 
did these monstrous, melting pears gather their juice? 
What softer sun and sweeter dew fed these purple necta- 
rines — these grapes of Eshcol — these peaches, figs, and 
pomegranates ? 

California, in fact, is the Brobdignag of the vegetable 
world. The products of all other lands are Lilliputian 



46 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

compared with hers. Erect your ears and expand your 
eyes, my reader ; for I am going to tell the truth, and no- 
thing but the truth. I forget the exact measurement of 
the peaches ; but there are none in the world so large — 
wdth, perhaps, the exception of those of Papigno, in the 
Apennines. The size, however, is not procured at the 
expense of the flavor. Excessive irrigation of the orchards, 
it is true, dilutes their rich, ambrosial quality; but the 
peaches of Marysville and the lower slopes of the Sierra 
Nevada are not a whit inferior to those of 'New Jersey or 
Montreuil. The skin has a peculiarity which I have not 
found elsewhere. Delicate as the silky lining of an egg- 
shell, it peels off at a touch ; and the royal fruit, with its 
golden and ruby nerves laid bare, is flayed without a knife. 
As you crush it upon your tongue, you remember the am- 
brosial fruits upon which, according to Arabic tradition, 
Adam was fed ; and wonder how soon your breath, like his, 
will be able to turn the coarse growth of the thickets into 
cinnamon and sandal-wood. 

Apples and pears have been raised, w^eighing three pounds 
apiece ; and I have been told of instances in which the 
fruit upon a tree weighed more than the tree itself. An 
orchard begins to bear the second year after planting ; and 
the grafts upon an old tree have yielded two hundred 
230unds' weight of fruit in the same length of time. I have 
never seen a single instance in which the fruit was knotty, 
wormy, or othermse imperfect. Nature seems to j^ossess 
not only a fecundity, but a degree of health, unknown in 
any other part of the earth. In Santa Cruz, a peach tree 
two years old produced tioo himclred ^perfect peaches. Apple 






NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 47 

trees sometimes yield two crops in the course of a single 
season. The extent to which fruit is already cultivated in 
California may be inferred from the fact that the peach 
trees in the State number 2,000,000 ; apple trees, 750,000 ; 
and pear trees, 100,000. The number of grape-vines is 
estimated at five millions^ the average yield of which is 
fourteen pounds of grapes for each vine. 

A few days after our arrival at San Francisco, the annual 
Fair of the Horticultural Society was held. It was a sin- 
gular collection of vegetable monstrosities. I saw, for the 
first time in my life, cabbage-heads weighing between fifty 
and sixty pounds ; onions as large as my head ; and celery 
that threatened to overtop corn-stalks and sugar-cane. 
Upon one table lay a huge, dark-red object, about the 
thickness of my body. At a distance, I took it for the 
trunk of some curious tree ; but on approaching nearer, I 
saw that it was a single heet^ weighing 115 pounds ! The 
seed was planted in the spring of 1858 ; and when taken 
up in the fall of that year, the root weighed 43 pounds. 
The owner, desiring to procure seed from so fine a specimen, 
planted it again last spring. But it wouldn't go to seed ! 
It devoted aU its energies to growing bigger ; and here it 
was, sound throughout, and full of a life w^hich seemed 
almost supernatural. I was glad to learn that it was to be 
planted again the next spring, and perhaps the year after 
— ^the owner having declared that he would keep on plant- 
ing it until it reached a thousand pounds, or consented to 
run to seed ! 

The circumstances under which I visited San Francisco 
naturally procured for us a very pleasant introduction to 



48 AT PIOME AND ABROAr*. 

its society. Besides, many of my friends of '49 were still 
residing there, no longer lonely and homeless, enduring a 
virtual exile for the sake of speedy gain, but with their 
families around them, working with more moderation, and 
finding a permanent and happy home in the spot which 
they first looked upon as a temporary stopping-place. Ac- 
tive as their life is, it does not wholly prohibit a fair amount 
of social relaxation. Society there is also too new to set 
up exclusive barriers ; its tone is liberal and metropolitan, 
and the mingling of so many various elements relieves it of 
that prim, respectable dulness which characterizes some of 
our older cities. The society of San Francisco seems to 
me to be above the usual average of refinement and culti- 
vation, which is partly owing to the fact that the female 
portion has improved even more by transplantation than the 
male. 

As we in the Atlantic States often exaggerate the pre- 
vailing fashions of Europe, so in California there is a still 
further exaggeration. Nowhere are wider hoops expanded, 
smaller bonnets placed against the head, or more barbaric 
circles of gold attached to the ears. Nowhere are the 
streets swept with such expensive silks. Few of the dwell- 
ing-houses, as yet, admit of very luxurious entertainments, 
but it is easy to foresee that this additional field of expen- 
diture will ere long be opened. Where there is so much 
female beauty, and where so many of the gentlemen have 
imlearned habits of close economy, luxury is the natural 
result. Why, even servant-girls in California dress in silk 
and wear twenty-dollar bonnets ! 

I had the best opportunity for judging of the average 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 49 

cultivatiou of the San Franciscans. A lecturer sees people 
collectively^ as well as individually, and takes their intellec- 
tual measure by the impressions which come to him in a 
single hour — ^nor are such raj^id conclusions as he draws 
generally far from . the truth. Holmes says that a popular 
lecture should contain nothing which five hundred people 
cannot understand and appreciate at the same instant : 
therefore, when a lecturer finds that five hundred out of a 
thousand are following him closely, treading securely and 
evenly in the tracks of his thought, he may be sure that 
their mental calibre is at least equal to the bore and range 
of his own mind. In San Francisco, lectures (at least spe- 
cial importations for that object) were new : curiosity no 
doubt contributed to the success of the experiment, but it 
was none the less a test of the cultivation of the audience. 
The impression made upon me was precisely similar to 
that produced in Boston. At first, there was the usual 
amount of curiosity, followed by an uncertain silence and 
impassiveness. Judgment was held in abeyance ; each 
depended a little on the verdict pronounced by others, but 
all at last silently coalesced unto a mutual understanding, 
and were thenceforth steadily attentive, critical, and appre- 
ciative. These phases of the mind of an audience are not 
betrayed by any open demonstration. They communicate 
themselves to the mind of the lecturer by a subtle mag- 
netism which he cannot explain, yet the truth of which is 
positive to his mind. I am sometimes inclined to think 
that there is as distinct an indiAdduality in audiences as there 
is in single persons. The speaker, after a little practice, is 
able to guess the average capacity as well as the average 

3 



50 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

cultivation of those whom he addresses. Thus, notwith- 
standing the heterogeneous character of the population of 
California, the companies to whom I lectured made no 
divided impression upon me ; each community, new as it 
was, had already its collective character. 



2. — ^The Valley of San Jose. 

Having made arrangements to give two lectures in San 
Jose, I availed myself of the kind offer of Mr. Haight, of 
the Mercantile Library of San Francisco, who proposed 
conveying us thither in his carriage. The distance is- fifty- 
one miles — San Jose lying in the mouth of the celebrated 
valley of the same name, w^hich stretches southward for 
forty miles between the two ranges of the Coast Mountains 
— ^having once been, from all appearance, a portion of San 
Francisco Bay. I had been over the road four times in 
1849 — once on foot, once in a cart, and twice on muleback 
—and flattered myself that I was thoroughly famihar with 
the country ; but I soon found I knew very little about it. 
The difference between a trail through a wilderness And 
a fenced-in road, with bridges, taverns, incipient villages 
even, scattered along it, was greater than I had imagined. 

" Where are the nine-league ranches of the native Cali- 
fornians?" I asked. 

" They have been swindled out of them." 

" Where are the grizzly bears and coyotes ?" 

" They have been killed off." 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 51 

"Where are the endless herds of cattle?" 
" Butchered for the San Francisco market." 
" Who cut down the magnificent trees that once stood 
here?" 

"The Pikes." 

Here I must make an explanation. A "Pike," in the 
California dialect, is a native of Missouri, Arkansas, North- 
ern Texas, or Southern Illinois. The first emigrants that 
came over the plains were from Pike county, Missouri ; 
but as the phrase, "a Pike county man," was altogether 
too long for this short life of ours, it was soon abbreviated 
into " a Pike." Besides, the emigrants from the afore- 
mentioned localities belonged evidently to the same gemis^ 
and the epithet " Western" was by no means sufficiently 
descriptive. The New England type is reproduced in 
Michigan and Wisconsin; the New York, in Northern 
Blinois ; the Pennsylvania, in Ohio ; the Virginia, in Ken- 
tucky ; but the Pike is a creature dififerent from all these. 
He is the Anglo-Saxon relapsed into semi-barbarism. He 
is long, lathy, and sallow ; he expectorates vehemently ; 
he takes naturally to whisky ; he has the " shakes" his life 
long at home, though he generally manages to get rid of 
them in California ; he has little respect for the rights of 
others ; he distrusts men in " store clothes," but venerates 
the memory of Andrew Jackson ; finally, he has an impla- 
cable dislike to trees. Girdling is his favorite mode of 
exterminating them; but he sometimes contents himself 
with cutting off the largest and handsomest limbs. When 
he spares one, for the sake of a little shade near his house, 
he whitewashes the trunk. 



52 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

In all parts of California you now find the Pike. In the 
valleys of San Jose, ISTapa, and Russian River, he has 
secured much of the finest land. But some of his original 
characteristics disappear, after he has been transplanted for 
a few years. He wears a tan-colored wide-awake ; sits in 
a Mexican saddle ; becomes full and ruddy, instead of lank 
and sallow ; and loses his chronic bitterness of spirit as " the 
shakes" cease to torment him. If he would but pay a little 
more attention to the education of his children, the young 
Pikes, or Pickerels, might grow up without those qualities 
which have made their parents rather unpopular. The 
name " Pike " is a reproach — a disparagement, at least — 
in most parts of California. 

Following the new turni^ike until we had passed the San 
Bruno Mountain, we came upon the rich level country 
beyond, as the sun, driving the dull fog-clouds seaward 
before him, brought warmth to the air and color to the 
landscape. On one side were salt marshes, whereon hun- 
dreds of cattle were grazing; on the other, white farm- 
houses, nestled in live-oak groves, at the bases of the yellow 
hills. I looked eagerly for the ranche of Sanchez, where I 
had twice passed a night ; but, though our road led us 
directly past the house, I failed to recognise it. The mud- 
colored adobe hut, with its tiled roof, had been transformed 
into a white building, with shining roof and a broad veranda. 
All the surroundings were changed ; other buildings had 
sprung up in the neighborhood ; and the very face of the 
landscape seemed no longer the same. 

I noticed with pleasure that the settlers had generally 
selected the sites of their houses with good taste, building 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 63 

them in the midst of the superb natural parks, which were 
not always wantonly hewed away. The architecture, also, 
was well adapted to the country and climate — simple forms, 
roofs flatter than usual, and always spacious verandas, 
sometimes encircling the whole house. As there is no snow, 
and but little frost (the thermometer never falling below 
20°), both paint and stucco are very durable; and the 
cheerful, airy architecture of Southern Europe will, in the 
end, be preferred to any other. What a country this will 
be, when stately mansions, adorned with art and taste, 
replace the first rude dwellings, and the noble parks sur- 
round the homes for which they have waited thousands of 
years ! 

To me, there is no delight of the senses quite equal to 
that of inhaling the fragrance of the wild California herb — 
the " yerba buena " of the Spaniards, the " tar weed " of 
the Pikes. It is a whitish, woolly plant, resembling life- 
everlasting, and exudes, when mature, a thick aromatic 
gum. For leagues on leagues the air is flavored with it — 
a rich, powerful, balsamic smell, almost a taste^ which seems 
to dilate the lungs like mild ether. To inhale such an air 
is perfect ecstasy. It does not cloy, like other odors ; but 
strengthens with a richer tonic than the breath of budding 
pines. If Life had a characteristic scent, this would be it : 
that a man should die while breathing it, seems incredible. 
A lady with weak nerves informed me that it made her sick 
—but some persons " die of a rose, in aromatic pain." To 
me, it stirs the blood like a trumpet, and makes the loftiest 
inspiration easy. I write poems, I paint pictures, I carve 
statues, I create history. If I should live to be old, and feel 



64 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

my faculties failing, I shall go back to restore the sensations 
of youth in that wonderful air. 

After a ride of twenty miles, we passed some noble 
ranches of 2,000 acres each, and approached San Mateo. 
The deep, dry bed of the creek, shaded with enormous bay- 
trees, chestnuts, and sycamores, was fresh in my recollec- 
tion. The glorious trees were still standing ; but among 
them, on the right, rose a beautiful Gothic residence ; and 
after we had crossed the arroyo on a wooden bridge, we 
drew up at a handsome hotel on the left. Everywhere, 
neatness, comfort, and a profusion of shrubs, flowers, and 
vines. Opposite the hotel was the country residence of 
Captain Macondray, my fellow-passenger ten years ago— 
now one of the oldest inhabitants, happy in a success which 
he has wholly deserved. As we reached the house, through 
a lawn dotted with glittering bays and live-oaks, the caj)- 
tain came out to welcome us ; and I could not refrain from 
expressing my delight that San Mateo had fallen into hands 
which will protect its beauty. 

Our walk through the garden was marked by a succes- 
sion of exclamations. Such peaches, such pears, such apples 
and figs ! What magic is there in this virgin soil ? The 
wild crab is as far behind the products of our Atlantic 
orchards, as are the latter behind the fruit that we saw. 
Colossal, splendidly colored, overflowing with delicious 
juice, without a faulty specimen anywhere, it was truly 
the perfection of horticulture. In a glass-house (necessary 
only to keep ofi" the cool afternoon winds) we found the 
black Hamburg, the Muscatel, and other delicate grapes, 
laden from root to tip with clusters from one to two feet in 



NEW PICTUPvES FEOil CALIFOEXIA. 55 

length. The heaps of rich color and perfume, on the table 
to which we were summoned, were no less a feast to the 
eye than to the palate. 

Continuing our journey, we bowled along merrily over 
the smooth, hard road, and presently. Redwood City, the 
county-seat, came in sight. Ten miles ahead, towered the 
solitary redwood, two hundred feet in height — the old 
landmark of the valley. The town numbers perhaps four 
or five hundred inhabitants, having grown up within the 
last four or five years. Beyond this, the quality of the soil 
deteriorates somewhat ; the sea winds, sweeping over gaps 
in the coast-range, giving a rawness to the air, and fringing 
every branch of the oaks with long streamers of gray moss. 
This part of the road would have been monotonous, but for 
the magnificent frame of mountains which inclosed it. The 
bay, on our left, diminished to a narrow sheet of silvery 
water, and the ranges on either hand gradually approached 
each other, their golden sides no longer bare, but feathered 
with noble groves of oak and redwood. All along this 
Jornada of twenty miles without water — as it was ten years 
ago — farm now succeeds to farm, the whirling wind-mill 
beside every house, pumping up orchards, and gardens to 
beautify the waste. 

After crossing San Francisquito Creek, finding our appe- 
tites waxmg in the keen air, we looked out for a tavern. 
The first sign we saw was " Uncle Jim's," which was enti- 
cingly familiar, although the place had an air of " Pike." 
Our uncle was absent, and there were actually four loafers 
in the bar-room. That men with energy enough to cross 
thePlains, should " loaf," in a country ten years old, is a 



56 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

thing which I would not have believed if I had not seen it. 
The house betrayed its antiquity by the style of its con- 
struction. Instead of being lathed and plastered, the walls 
and ceilings were composed of coarse white muslin, nailed 
upon the studs and joists. This is the cheap, early method 
of building in Cahfornia, and insures sufficient privacy to 
the eye, though none at all to the ear. Every room is a 
Cave of Dionysius. Whatever is whispered in the garret, 
is distinctly heard in the cellar. There can be no family 
feuds in such a house ; Mrs. Caudle might as well give her 
lectures in public. 

A further drive of ten miles, brought us to Santa Clara. 
The old Jesuit Mission, with its long adobe walls, tiled 
roof, quaint Spanish church, and orchards hedged with the 
fruitbearing cactus, were the same as ever ; but beyond 
them, on all sides, extended a checkerwork of new streets 
— brick stores, churches, smiling cottages, in the midst of 
gardens and orchards, which seemed unnaturally preco- 
cious. Here both the Catholics and Methodists have large 
and flourishing schools. 

The valley, bathed in sunset, lay before us, calm and 
peaceful as Eden. The old avenue of trees still connects 
Santa Clara with San Jose ; but as we drove along it, I 
looked in vain for the open plain, covered with its giant 
growth of wild mustard. The town now lies imbedded in 
orchards, over w^hose low level green rise the majestic 
forms of the sycamores, which mark the course of the 
stream. As the eastern mountains burned with a deep 
rose-color, in the last rays of the sun, the valley strikingly 
reminded me of the Plain of Damascus ; color, atmosphere, 



NEW PICTURES FEOiAI CALIFOKXIA. 57 

and vegetation were precisely the same — not less, but even 
more lovely. But in place of snowy minarets, and flat 
oriental domes, there were red brick masses, mills, and 
clumsy spires, which (the last) seemed not only occidental, 
but accidental, so little had they to do with architectural 
rules. 

San Jose, nevertheless, is a very beautiful little town. 
Many of the dwellings recently erected are exceedingly 
elegant, and its gardens promise to be unsurpassed. Its 
growth has been slow (the population, at present, not 
exceeding twenty-five hundred), but it has scarcely reco- 
vered from the misfortune of having been the State capital. 
The valley in which it lies is one of the most favored spots 
in the world, in point of fertility, salubrity of climate, and 
natural beauty. When the great ranches are properly 
subdivided, as they will be in time, and thousands live 
where units are now living, there will be no more desirable 
place of residence anywhere on the Pacific coast. 

What a day was that which succeeded our arrival ! As 
Howadji Curtis says : " Opals and turquoises are the earth's 
efforts to remember a sky so fair.'' As soon as the last 
fringe of fog disap]3eared, and the valley smiled in cloud- 
less sunshine, we twain, seated in a light buggy, behind an 
enthusiastic horse, set out for the mines of N'ew Almaden. 
Our road led southward, up the valley. !N'ear the town, 
the soil, baked by four months of uninterrupted sun, and 
pulverized by thousands of wheels, was impalpable dust 
for six inches deep ; but the breeze blew it behind us, until 
some eddy caught and whirled it into slender, smoky 
pillars, moving across the yellow stubble-fields until they 

8^ 



58 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

dissolved. After three or four miles, liowever, the road 
became firm, and gloriously smooth; and the ambrosial 
herb, which had been driven back by gardens and orchards, 
poured its intoxicating breath on the air. 

Now, how shall I describe a landscape so unlike anything 
else in the world — with a beauty so new and dazzling that 
all ordinary comparisons are worthless? A valley ten 
miles wide, through the centre of which winds the dry bed 
of a winter stream, whose course is marked with groups 
of giant sycamores, their trunks gleaming like silver 
through masses of glossy foliage : over the level floor of 
this valley park-like groves of oaks, whose mingled grace 
and majesty can only be given by the pencil : in the distance, 
redwoods rising like towers ; westward, a mountain-chain, 
nearly four thousand feet in height — showing, through the 
blue haze, dark-green forests on a background of blaznig 
gold : eastward, another mountain-chain, full-lighted by the 
sun-^— rose-color, touched with violet shadows, shining with 
a marvellous transparency, as if they were of glass, behind 
which shone another sun : overhead, finally, a sky whose 
blue lustre seemed to fall, mellowed, through an interven- 
ing veil of luminous vapor. No words can describe the 
fire and force of the coloring — ^the daring contrasts, which 
the difference of half a tint changed from discord into har- 
mony. Here the Great Artist seems to have taken a new 
palette, and painted his creation with hues unknown else- 
where. 

Driving along through these enchanting scenes, I indulged 
in a day-dream. It will not be long, I thought — I may 
live to see it before my prime of life is over — ^until San 



NEW PICTUKES FROM CALIFORNIA. 59 

Jose is but a five-days' journey from Xew York. Cars 
which shall be, in fact, travelling-hotels, will speed on an 
unbroken line of rail from the Mississippi to the Pacific. 
Then^ let me purchase a few acres on the lowest slope of 
these mountains, overlooking the valley, and with a distant 
gleam of the bay : let me build a cottage, embowered in 
acacia and eucalyptus, and the tall sj)ires of the Italian 
cypress : let me leave home w^hen the Christmas holidays are 
over, and enjoy the balmy Januaries and Februaries, the 
heavenly Marches and Aprils of my remaining years here, 
returning only when May shall have brought beauty to the 
Atlantic shore ! There shall my roses out-bloom those of 
Psestum : there shall my nightingales sing, my orange- 
blossoms sweeten the air, my children play, and my best 
poems be written ! 

I had another and a grander dream. A hundred years 
had passed, and I saw the valley, not, as now, only partially 
tamed and revelling in the wild magnificence of Nature, 
but from river-bed to mountain-summit humming with 
human life. I saw the same oaks and sycamores, but their 
shadows fell on mansions which were fair as temples, with 
their white fronts and long colonnades : I saw gardens, 
refreshed by gleaming fountains — statues peeping from the 
gloom of laurel bowers — palaces, built to enshrine the new 
Art which will then have blossomed here — culture, plenty, 
peace, happiness everywhere. I saw a more beautiful race 
in possession of this paradise — a race in w^hich the lost 
symmetry and grace of the Greek was partially restored — ■ 
the rough, harsh features of the original type gone — milder 
manners, better-regulated impulses, and a keener apprecia- 



60 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

tion of all the arts which enrich and embellish life. Was 
it only a dream ? 

After a drive of ten miles, we drew near the base of the 
western mountains, and entered a wilder, but not less 
beautiful region. The road led through a succession of 
open, softly-rounded hills, among which the first settlers 
were building their shanties. The only persons we met 
were Mexicans, driving carts, who answered my questions 
in Spanish. Three miles further, a deep, abrupt glen 
opened on our right. The hot, yellow mountain-sides shut 
out the breeze, and the sun shone fiercely upon the deep, 
dazzling green of the trees which overhung a little brook 
below us. Presently we reached a large, white mansion, 
surrounded by a garden of fig, peach, and pomegranate 
trees. A uniform row of neat wooden cottages followed ; 
and beyond them, on an open space, rose the tall, black 
chimneys of the smelting-furnaces. This was New 
Almaden. 

At a small, but comfortable, tavern we obtained dinner. 
The host, a perfect specimen of sunburnt health and 
natural politeness, afterwards showed us the soda spring and 
the smelting-houses. The mines of cinnabar are two miles 
off, near the top of the mountain, and thirteen hundred 
and fifty feet above the sea. As they were then under 
litigation, instituted by the United States government, all 
labor had been suspended. The principal adit is four 
thousand feet in length — the ore being found in detached 
masses. The average annual production is something over 
a million of pounds, which is obtained at an expense of 
$280,000, and yields a profit considerably greater. The 



NEW PICTUllES FKOM CALIFOKNIA. 61 

process of smelting is very simple, the mercury being 
detached from the cinnabar by heat, and afterwards col- 
lected by condensation. Below the condensing chambers 
are huge bowls, some of which were still partially filled 
with the metallic fluid. It was a curious sensation to set 
your foot into the cold, slippery mass, which, as if disdaining 
such treatment, rolls off, leaving your boot unsoiled. Huge 
heaps of cinnabar, of a rich dark-vermilion color, lay idly 
beside the furnaces. Some specimens, which I ventured to 
carry away, contained seventy-five per cent, of quicksilver. 
Before leaving San Jose, I visited two or three of the 
pleasant private residences, which, with their gardens and 
orchards, adorn the outskirts of the town. It seems really 
mcredible that ten years could work such a marvellous 
change. Instead of a bare, open plain, there were groves 
and bowers — streets lined with rows of trees, and houses 
hidden in foliage and blossoms. Fig-trees, laden with 
their second croj^ of fruit, encircled the fountain-basins ; 
rustic summer-houses, overgrown with fuchsia, passion- 
flower, and the Australian pea, rose out of thickets of 
acacia, laurel, and the African tamarack, with its thin, 
thready foliage ; and with the simple protection of glass, 
the orange and banana flourished as in the Tropics. A 
cluster of cottonwoods, planted eight years ago, were 
already fifty feet high, with trunks fifteen inches in diame- 
ter ! Here, old proverbs fail. A man does not plant an 
orchard, that his grandchildren may have fruit, or a tree, 
that his sons may sit beneath its shade : if he can count on 
five more years of life for himself, he does these things for 
his own sake. 



62 AT HOME AND ABROAD 

Now, I ask, where I^ature does so much, should we nojb 
expect proportionably more from Mem f The Californians 
have labored well, it is true, but not so much as they might 
have done. I am not going to flatter them with unmingled 
praise. Coming from such a stock, caiiying the habits, 
tastes, and ideas of the older States with them, they could 
not have accomplished less, without exhibiting a deteriora- 
tion in character. The material progress of the State is 
not so much to be wondered at, when we consider that 
every improvement either pays^ or is expected to pay. 
There are fine roads constructed at great expense, all 
through the mining districts — but ask the teamsters how 
much toll they pay. There are good bridges everywhere 
— your purse acknowledges the fact, as well as your eyes. 
But there is, as yet, no thorough geological survey of the 
State : the Common School system is far less generally 
established than it should be : and the population are too 
bent upon money-making to insist on the proper adminis- 
tration of the laws, which, except in San Francisco, are as 
loosely and carelessly regarded as in — ISTew York City. 
The energy of Selfishness has worked wonders — but it takes 
something more to make a State great, wise, and happy. 

We determined to return to San Francisco up the east- 
ern shore, through Alameda County, thus making the 
circuit of the bay. The distance to San Antonio near 
Oakland, is about forty miles ; the fare, if you take a team 
at a livery-stable, is twenty-five dollars — by the. stage, it is 
one dollar. The difi*erence would buy an acre of land : so 
we took the stage. To avoid the dust, as well as the 
rough crowd of French laborers, Chinamen, and Pikes 



ITEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORXIA. 63 

inside, my wife and I climbed to the top of the Concord 
coach, and established ourselves behind the driver. The 
morning was overcast and raw : the momitains were drab 
instead of golden, and the bay indigo, instead of purple. 
To conciliate the driver, I presented him with a cigar, 
accompanied with a remark. He had a full, handsome 
face, a military moustache, and a rough courtesy in his 
manners, emphasized with profane words. I should never 
have suspected him of being a "Pike," if he had not 
admitted it. He had been in the country nine years ; 
weighed one hundred and twenty-seven pounds when he 
came ; now weighed one hundred and ninety ; used to be 
sick all the time at home ; had the shakes — had 'em bad/ 
never had 'em now ; was afraid to go home, for fear he 
should git 'em again. Knowed all about horses ; druv 'em 
so's to go fast, and so's not to hurt 'em nuther. Some 

drivers upsot the stage, goin' over side-hills ; if 

he did ; passengers might swear 'cause he went slow ; he 
knowed what he was about — he did. All which latter 
statements proved to be perfectly true. He was an honest, 
careful, skilful fellow ; and we enjoyed the journey all the 
more, from our confidence in him. 

For some ten miles our road led over the level floor of 
the valley. The land here appeared to be tolerably well 
divided into farms, the fields fenced with redwood, regard- 
less of expense, and the most superb orchards and vine- 
yards springing up everywhere. I was glad to see that 
the fences were all substantial post-and-rail — ^none of those 
hideous " worm-fences" which are so common in the Middle 
and Western States. Redwood timber has a great dura* 



64 AT HOME A?^'D ABROAD. 

bility in a moist soil, though it is liable to dry-rot else, 
where. Col. Fremont saw a redwood post at the Mission 
of Dolores, which had been in the ground seventy-five 
years, and had only rotted to the depth of half an inch, 
l^early all the frame houses are built of this timber, and I 
never saw without pain its rich, beautiful natural color — 
intermediate between that of mahogany and black walnut 
— hidden under a coat of paint. If it could be preserved by 
oil, or a transparent varnish, nothing could be more elegant. 

We were obliged to stop at Warm Spring (which lies 
off the road) on account of the mail. As we slowly 
climbed the glen, the national flag, flying from a flag-staff 
which towered above a clump of sycamores and live-oaks, 
announced the site of the hotel. Here was truly a pleas- 
ant retreat. A tw^o-story frame building, with a shady 
veranda, opening upon a garden of flowers, in the midst 
of which the misty jet of a fountain fluttered in the wind, 
vineyards in the rear, and the lofty mountain over all. 
There must be leisure already in this new world of work, 
when such places exist. 

Three miles further, up and down, crossing the bases of 
the hills, brought us to the Mission of San Jose. I found 
the old Mission intact, but a thriving village had sprung 
up around it. Its former peaceful seclusion has gone for 
ever : a few natives, with their sarapes and jingling spurs, 
lounge in the tiled corridors ; while, in bar-rooms opposite, 
the new owners of the land drink bad liquors and chew 
abominable tobacco. The old garden on the hill has passed 
into the hands of speculators, and its wealth of figs, pears, 
and melons is now shipped to San Francisco. 



NEW PICTUKES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 65 

Here I left my trail of 1849, which turned eastward, 
over the mountains, while our road kept along their base, 
northward. As the sun came out, the huge stacks of 
sheaves, in the centre of the immense wheat-fields, flashed 
like perfect gold. I have never seen grain so clean, so 
pure and bi^liant in color. If the sheaves had been washed 
with soap-suds and then varnished, they could not have 
been more resplendent. The eastern shore of the bay is 
certainly more fertile than the western, and richer in arable 
land, though it has less timber and less landscape beauty. 
The land appears to be all claimed (generally in despite of 
the original proprietors) and nearly all settled. 

We now saw the dark line of the Eucinal, in front, and 
sped onward through clouds of black dust to San Antonio, 
which we reached at noon. An old friend was in waiting, 
to convey us to his home in the village of Alameda, two 
miles distant. We here saw more of the wonders of 
horticulture — ^but I am really tired of repeating statements 
so difficult of belief, and will desist. We spent the after- 
noon under his live-oaks, bathed in the aroma of giant 
pears and nectarines, and in the evening returned to San 
Francisco. 



3. ^A JOTJENEY TO THE GeTSEES. 

A WEEK later, we-left San Francisco in a little steamer, 
for Petaluma. I had made arrangements to lecture there 
on Saturday evening, and in Napa City on Monday eve 
ning ; and determined to accomplish a visit to the Geysers, 



66 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

in the intervening time, although most of my friends pro- 
nounced the thing impossible. Yet, at the same time, 
they all said ; " You must not think of leaving California 
without seeing the Geysers" — those who had never been 
there being, as usual, most earnest in their recommenda- 
tions. It was all new ground to me, as I had seen literally 
nothing of the north side of the bay during my first visit. 

Petaluma is the westernmost of three valleys which, 
divided by parallel spurs of the Coast Range, open upon 
the north side of San Pablo Bay. It communicates, with 
scarce an intervening "divide," with the rich and spa- 
cious valley of Russian River — a stream which enters the 
Pacific at Bodega, some twenty miles north of the Golden 
Gate, where the Russians once made a settlement. It is 
thus, virtually, the outlet of this valley to the Bay of San 
Francisco ; and the town of Petaluma, at the head of 
navigation, bids fair to become a place of some importance. 
In 1849, the valley was an Indian ranche, belonging to one 
of the brothers Vallejo ; and the adobe fort, built for 
protection against the native tribes, is still standing. At 
present, there is a daily line of steamers thither — a fact 
which shows that the progress of California is not restricted 
to the gold-bearing regions. 

We passed close under the steep mountain-sides of 
Angel Island. At the base, there are quarries of very 
tolerable building-stone, which are extensively worked. 
Across a narrow strait lay Sousolito, overhung by dark 
mountains. Here there is a little settlement*, whence is 
brought the best supply of drinking-water for San Fran 
cisco. An hour more brought us to Point San Quentin, 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. Q1 

where the State prison is located. In this institution, 
terms of imprisonment are shortened by wholesale, with- 
out the exercise of executive clemency. When the 
inmates have enjoyed a satisfactory period of rest and 
seclusion, they join in companies, and fillibuster their way 
out. During my sojourn in California, forty or fifty of 
them took possession of a sloop, and were only prevented 
from escaping, by a discharge of grape-shot, which killed 
several. 

As we approached Black Point, at the mouth of Peta- 
luma Creek, the water of the bay became very shallow and 
muddy, and our course changed from a right line into a 
tortuous following of the narrow channel. The mouth of 
the valley is not more than two miles wide ; and the creek, 
which is a mere tide-water slough, winds its labyrinthine 
way through an expanse of reedy marshes. To the west- 
ward, towers a noble mountain-j)eak, with groves of live- 
oak mottling its golden sides ; while on the east a lower 
range of tawny hills divides the valley from that of Sonoma. 

The windings of the creek were really bewildering — more 
than doubling the distance. But there is already enterprise 
enough to straighten the channel. Gangs of men are at 
work, cutting across the bends, and in the course of time, 
the whole aspect of the valley will be changed. We left 
the steamer at a place called The Haystack, about two 
miles from Petaluma. Time is gained by taking an omnibus 
here, and avoiding the remaining curves of the stream. 
The town, built on the southern slope of a low hill, make? 
a very cheerful impression. The main street, built up con. 
tinuously for near half a mile, slowly climbs the hill — its 



68 AT ho:me and abroad. 

upper portion overlooking the blocks of neat cottages and 
gardens in the rear. The houses, of course, are mostly 
frame ; but a beautiful dark-blue lime-stone is rapidly coming 
into use. The place already contains 2,500 inhabitants, and 
the air of business and prosperity which it wears is quite 
striking. 

After collecting all possible information concerning the 
journey to the Geysers, I determined to go on the same 
night to Santa Rosa, sixteen miles further up the valley. 
A considerate friend sent a note by the evening stage to 
Mr. Dickinson, a landlord in Healdsburg (in Russian River 
Valley), engaging horses for the mountains. I then sought 
and found a reasonable livery-stable, the proprietor of 
which furnished me with a two-horse buggy — to be left at 
Napa City, twenty-four miles distant, on the third day— for 
$20. The vehicle was strong, the^horses admirable, and I 
was to be our own driver and guide. I had intended em- 
ploying a man to act in the latter capacity, until I was told, 
" You can never find the way alone." 

After my evening duty was performed, and the moon 
had risen, we took our seats in the buggy, well-muffled 
against the cold night-wind. I was especially warned 
against this midnight journey to Santa Rosa. People said : 
" We, who have been over the road, lose the way in going 
by daylight. How can you find it by night ?" But I have 
my plan of action in such cases. I ask half a dozen men of 
very different degrees of intelligence, separately, to give 
me instructions. ISTo matter how much they may differ, 
there are always certain landmarks which coincide: hold 
on to these, and let the rest go ! Thus, after much ques- 



SBW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 69 

tioning, I found out that I must keep a certain main road 
until I had passed the Magnolia Tavern ; then turn to the 
right around the garden-fence ; then cross a gully ; then 
not take a trail to the right ; then drive over a wide, fence- 
less plain ; then take the right hand, and mount a hill : and, 
after I had struck the main fenced road, keep it to Santa 
Rosa. 

Accompanied with good wishes and misgivings, we left 
the Washington Hotel, in Petaluma. The yellow landscape 
shone with a ghastly glare in the moonlight ; and the 
parched soil and dust of the road were so nearly the same 
color, that I was only able to distinguish the highway by 
the sound of the wheels. I found the Magnolia, rightly 
enough ; turned around the garden, crossed the gully, and 
struck out boldly over the dim plain. The cold wind, still 
raw from the Pacific, blew in our faces, and cheered us 
with the balsam of the tar-weed. jN'o sound of coyote or 
gray-wolf disturbed the night. Through a land of ghostly 
silence the horses trotted steadily onward. Up the pro- 
mised hill ; through groves of wizard oaks ; past the dark 
shanties of settlers : with wheels rattling on gravel or muf- 
fled in dust ; crossing the insteps of hills, and then into an 
apparently boundless plain — so we dashed until midnight, 
when we reached a large stream. Thus far we had not seen 
a living soul ; but now, a " solitary horseman" came up 
behind us. 

" Is this the road to Santa Rosa ?" I asked. 

" You are in Santa Rosa now,'' was the reply. 

Once over the stream, there lay the village, which the 
oaks and sycamores had concealed from us. 



10 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

I thundered vigorously on the door of a tavern ; but it 
was long before there was any answering sound. Finally, 
the door was opened by a barefooted man, in shirt and 
trowsers — not growling, as I anticipated, but excessively 
polite and obliging. Passing through a parlor, with glaring 
ingrain carpet and hair sofa, he ushered us into a bedroom, 
bounded on one side by a kitchen, and on the other by a 
closet, where servant-girls slept. It had evidently been his 
own room ; for the bed was still warm, and no imagination 
could endow the limp cotton sheets with freshness. The 
room was disgustingly dirty — old clothes, indescribable 
towels and combs being scattered in the corners. Fortu- 
nately, our fatigue was great, and the five hours' sleep 
(which was all we could take) cut short the inevitable 
loathing. 

Our lodging cost two dollars ; our horses the same. 
Soon after six o'clock, we were under way again — intend- 
ing to take breakfast at Healdsburg, sixteen miles further. 
As we got out of the shabby little village of Santa Rosa, I 
perceived that we were already in Russian River Valley. 
Its glorious alluvial level, sprinkled with groves of noble 
trees, extended far and wide before us — bounded, on the 
west, by the blue mountains of the coast. The greater part 
of the land was evidently claimed, and the series of fenced 
and cultivated fields on either side of the road was almost 
uninterrupted. It was melancholy to see how wantonly the 
most beautiful trees in the world had been destroj'ed ; for 
the world has never seen such oaks as grow in Russian 
River Valley. The fields of girdled and blackened skeletons 
seemed doubly hideous by contrast with the glory of the 



NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 71 

surviving trees. "Water seems to be more abundant in this 
valley than in that of San Jose: the picturesque windmill is 
not a feature in the landscape. The settlers are mostly 
Pikes ; but one man, of whom I asked the way, rather 
puzzled me, at first. His shaggy bro^vn hair, flat nose, and 
Calmuck nostrils, led me to suspect that he might be a 
Russian remnant of the old settlement of Bodega. After 
trying Spanish and German without success, I was vainly 
straining after a Russian phrase, when he suddenly addressed 
me in French. His patois, however, was harsh and barba- 
rous, and I set him down for a Basque or a Breton. 

The valley gradually narrowed to a breadth of five or six 
miles ; the mountains became more densely wooded ; impe- 
rial sycamores lifted their white arms over the heads of the 
oaks ; and tall, dark redwoods towered like giants along 
the slopes and summits. The landscapes were of ravishing 
beauty — a beauty not purchased at the expense of any 
material advantage ; for nothing could exceed the fertility 
of the soil. Indian corn, which thrives but moderately 
elsewhere in California, here rivalled the finest fields of the 
West. The fields of wild oats mocked the results of arti 
ficial culture; and the California boast, of making walking- 
canes of the stalks, seemed to be scarcely exaggerated. 
Then, as we approached Russian River, what a bowery 
luxuriance of sycamores, bay trees, shrubbery, and climbing 
vines ! What wonderful vistas of foliage, starry flowers, 
and pebbly reaches, mirrored in the sparkling water ! It 
was a kindred picture to that of the Yalley of the Alpheus, 
in Greece, but far richer in coloring. 

Such scenery was not to be enjoyed T\nthont payment. 



72 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

There was beauty areund, but there was dust below. After 
crossing the river, our wheels sank into a foot of dry, black 
powder, which spun off the tires in terrific clouds. It was 
blinding, choking, annihilating ; and the only way to escape 
it was, to drive with such rapidity that you were past 
before it reached the level of your head. But under the 
dust were invisible ruts and holes; and the faster you 
drove, the more liable you were to snap some bolt or 
spring, }fy a sudden wrench. Less than a mile of such tra- 
vel, however, brought us to the outskirts of Healdsburg. 
This town — which is only two years old, and numbers six 
or eight hundred inhabitants — is built in a forest of fir and 
pine trees. The houses seem to spring up faster than the 
streets can be laid out, with the exception of an open 
square in the centre — a sort of public trading-ground and 
forum, such as you see in the Sclavonic villages of Eastern 
Europe. Wild and backwoodsy as the place appeared, it 
was to us the welcome herald of breakfast. 

The note dispatched from Petaluma had had the desired 
effect. Mr. Dickinson had gone on to Ray's tavern, at the 
foot of the mountains, with the saddle-horses ; and his 
partner soon supplied us with an excellent meal. The road 
to Ray's was described as being rough, and hard to find ; 
but as the distance was only eight or nine miles, and ray 
instructions were intelligibly given, I determined to take 
no guide. There are settlements along Russian River, 
almost to its source — some seventy or eighty miles above 
Healdsburg ; and still beyond the valley, as you go north, 
ward, extends a succession of others, lying within the arms 
of the Coast Range, as far as Trinity River. They are said 



NEW PICTUKES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 73 

to be wonderfully fertile and beautiful, and those which are 
not appropriated as Indian reservations, are rapidly filling 
up with settlers. As there are no good harbors on the- 
coast between Bodega and Humboldt, much of the inter- 
course between this region and the Bay of San Francisco 
must be carried on by the way of Petaluma and the Rus- 
sian River. The sudden rise of Healdsburg is thus ac- 
counted for. 

Resuming our journey, we travelled for four or five miles 
through scenery of the most singular beauty. To me, it 
was an altogether new variety of landscape. Even in 
California, where Nature presents so many phases, there is 
nothing like it elsewhere. Fancy a country composed of 
mounds from one to five hundred feet in height, arranged 
in every possible style of grouping, or piled against and 
upon each other, yet always rounded off with the most 
wonderful smoothness and grace — not a line but curves as 
exquisitely as the loins of the antique Yenus — covered with 
a short, even sward of golden grass, and studded with trees 
— singly, in clumps, or in groves — which surpass, in artistic 
perfection of form, all other trees that grow ! " This," said 
I, " is certainly the last-created portion of . our planet. 
Here the Divine Architect has lingered over His work with 
reluctant fondness, giving it the final caressing touches 
with which He pronounced it good." 

Indeed, our further journey seemed to be through some 
province of dream-land. As the valley opened again, and 
our course turned eastward toward the group of lofty 
mountains in which Pluton River lies hidden, visions of 
violet peaks shimmered afar, through the perfect trees. 



V4 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

Headlands crowned with colossal redwood were thrust 
forward from the ranges on either hand, embaying between 
them the loveliest glens. The day was cloudless, warm, 
and calm, with barely enough of breeze to shake the 
voluptuous spice from the glossy bay-leaves. After cross- 
ing Russian River a second time — here a broad bed of dry 
pebbles — we found fields and farm-houses. The road was 
continually crossed by deep arroyos, in and out of which 
our horses plunged with remarkable dexterity. The smaller 
gullies were roughly bridged with loose logs, covered with 
brush. We were evidently approaching the confines of 
civilization. 

I missed the road but once, and then a cart-track through 
the fields soon brought me back again. At noon, precisely, 
we reached Ray's — a little shanty in a valley at the foot 
of Geyser Peak. Thence we were to proceed on horse- 
back to the region of wonders. 

Ray's Tavern (or stable) is only twelve miles from the 
Geysers; yet we should find these miles, we were told, 
longer than the forty we had travelled. Some of our 
friends had given us threatening pictures of the rocks, 
precipices, and mountain-heights to be overcome. It was 
fortunate that the horses had been ordered in advance ; for 
Ray's is a lonely place, and we might otherwise have been 
inconveniently delayed. Mr. Dickinson and an Indian boy 
were the only inhabitants. There was a bar, with bottles, 
a piece of cheese, and a box of soda-crackers, in one room, 
and a cot in the other. 

Presently, our horses were led up to the door. Mine 
was a dilapidated mustang, furnished with one of those 



NEW PICTUEES FEOM a^XIFOENIA. 75 

Mexican saddles which are so easy in the seat and so un- 
easy in the stirrups (on mountain roads) ; while my wife 
received a gray mare, recommended as an admirable crea- 
ture ; and so she was — with the exception of a blind eye, a 
sore back, and a habit of stumbling. " You can't miss the 
trail," said Mr. Dickinson — which, in fact, we didn't. 
Starting off, merrily, alone, up a little canon behind the 
tavern, with the noonday sun beating down fiercely upon 
our backs, it was not long before we breathed a purer air than 
that of the valley, and received a fresher inspiration from the 
richly-tinted panorama which gradually unfolded before us. 
The high, conical peak, behind which lay the Geysers, 
and the lower slopes of which we were ascending, was 
called Monte de las Putas, by the Spaniards ; but is now, 
fortunately, likely to lose that indecent appellation, and 
return to respectability, as Geys<jr Peak. Its summit is 
3,800 feet above the sea, and distinctly visible from the 
Bay of San Francisco. Eastward, across an intervening 
valley, rises the blue bulk of Mount St. Helene, 5,000 feet 
high ; while, to the West and South, the valley of Russian 
River, which here makes an abrupt curve, spread wide 
below us — a. dazzling picture of warmth, life, and beauty, 
covered as wath a misty violet-bloom. Our road w^as 
shaded with pines and oaks, with an undergrowth of buck- 
eye and manzanita. The splendid forms of the trees were 
projected with indescribable effect against the yellow har- 
vest which mantled the mountain-sides. The madrono, 
elsewhere a shrub, here becomes a magnificent tree, con- 
stantly charming the eye with its trunk of bronze, its 
branches of copper, and its leaves of supernatural green. 



76 AT HOME A^T> ABKOAD. 

Ascending gradually for a mile and a half, we reached 
the top of the first terrace or abutment of the mountain- 
chain. Here stood a shanty, near a spring which suddenly 
oozed out of the scorched soil. Half-a-dozen used-up horses 
were trying to get a drink, and a hard of at least four hun- 
dred sheep was gathered together under the immense 
spreading boughs of some evergreen oaks ; but settlers and 
shepherds were absent. I rode up to the window ; but a 
curtain of blue calico, placed there to exclude the sun and 
flies, baffled my curiosity. 

We now followed the top of the ridge for three or four 
miles, by a broad and beautiful trail marked with cart- 
wheels. A pleasant breeze blew from the opposite height, 
and the clumps of giant madronos and pines shielded us 
from the sun. As w^e cantered lightly along, our eyes 
rested continually on the wonderful valley below. The 
landscape, colossal in its forms, seemed to lie motion- 
less, leagues deep, at the bottom of an ocean of blue air. 
The atmosphere, transparent as ever, was palpable as glass, 
from its depth of color. !N"o object lost its distinctness, but 
became part of an unattainable, though not unreal world. 
The same feeling was excited, as when, leaning over a boat 
in some crystal cove of the tropical sea, I have watched the 
dells and valleys of the coral forests below. Across a deep 
hollow on our right, splendidly robed in forests, rose Gey- 
ser Peak, covered to the summit with purple chamisal. I 
am afraid to describe the eifect of this scenery. It was a 
beauty so exquisite, a harmony so complete, as to take away 
the effect of reality, and our enjoyment was of that supreme 
character which approaches the sense of pain. 



NEW PICTURES FKOM CALIFORNIA. 77 

Finally we descended into the hollow, which narrowed 
to an abrupt gorge, losing itself between steep mountain 
walls. Masses of black volcanic rock, among which grew 
Titanic pines, gave the place a wild, savage air, but the 
bottom of the gorge was a bower of beauty. An impe- 
tuous stream of crystal water plunged down it, overhung 
by a wilderness of maples, plane-trees, and deciduous oaks. 
As we were about to cross, a wild figure on horseback 
dashed out of the thicket. It was a Pike boy of fourteen, 
on a Mexican saddle, with calzoneros, leather-gaiters, and 
a lasso in his hand. " Have you seen a stray cow ?" he 
shouted. We had been looking at something else than 
cows. " 'Cause," he added, " one of ourn's missin'. You're 
goin' to the springs, I reckon ? Well, I'm goin's fur's the 
Surveyor's Camp." He had been four years in the country. 
His father Hved in the valley, but sent cattle upon the hills 
to pasture. " Lost cattle reg'lar. Glrizzlies eat 'em some- 
times- — still, it paid. What was them trees ? — matheroons 
(madronos).'' "Like California?" "Yes. Didn't want 
to go back, nohow. Didn't want a cigar— cAawe^ y" as a 
dexterous squirt of brown juice over his horse's head proved. 
Such was the information elicited by my questionmg. 

Meanwhile we had been gradually regaining the summit 
of the ridge beyond the gorge ; riding under broad-leaved 
oaks, which reminded me of the Erymanthean forests. Pre- 
sently there opened the most unexpected picture. A cir- 
cular meadow of green turf, the jjeak on our right, golden 
and purple to its summit ; an oak-knoll on the left, dotted 
with white tents, with picketed horses, men lying in the 
shade, and all the other picturesque accessories of a camp 



^8 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

It was the head-quarters of Capt. Davidson, of the Coast- 
Survey — evidently a man of taste as well as science. The 
repose was tempting, especially to my companion, to whom 
rough mountain travel was a new thing ; but we had no 
time to lose, for there were the Geysers before us, and a 
journey of sixty miles on the morrow. A made trail, 
engineered up the steep by easy windings, led us to a 
height of 3,200 feet above the sea ; whence the unknown 
realms behind Geyser Peak became visible, and we turned 
our backs on Russian River Valley. 

It was a wild region upon which we now entered. Sheer 
down slid the huge mountain-sides, to depths unknown, for 
they were concealed by the thick-set pillars of the fir and 
redwood. Opposite rose heights equally abrupt ; over their 
almost level line, the blue wall of a chain beyond, and scat- 
tered peaks in the dimmest distance. The intervening 
gorges ran from east to west, but that immediately below 
us was divided by a narrow partition-wall, which crossed it 
transversely, connecting the summits of the two chains. 
Over this wall our road lay. The golden tint of the wild 
oats was gone from the landscape. The mountains were 
covered to the summits with dense masses of furze, chami- 
sal, laurel, and manzanita, painting them with gorgeous 
purples, yellows, browns, and greens. For the hundredth 
time I exclaimed, " What a country for an artist !" 

On the sharp comb of the transverse connecting-wall over 
which we rode, there was barely room for the trail. It was 
originally next to impassable, but several thousand dollars 
expended in cutting chapparal, blasting rocks, and bridging 
chasms, have made it secure and easy. The carcass of a 



NEW nCTUKES FKOM CALIFORNIA. "79 

calf, killed by a grizzly bear a few days before, lay beside 
the path. "We also passed a tethered mule, with a glimpse 
of somebody asleep under a rock ; after which, the silence 
and solitude was complete. 

We reached the opposite ridge with feelings of relief — 
not from any dangers passed, but because we knew that 
Pluton River must lie in the gorge beyond, and we were 
excessively fatigued and hungry. The sky between the 
distant peaks became so clear as to indicate that a conside- 
rable depression lay below it, and I conjectured (rightly, as 
it proved,) that this must be Clear Lake. Looking down 
into the gulf below us, I noticed only that while the side 
ujjon which we stood was covered with magnificent forests, 
the opposite or northern steep was comparatively bare, and 
the deep gullies which seamed it showed great patches of 
yellow and orange-colored earth near the bottom. But no 
sound was to be heard, no column of vapor to be seen. 
Indeed, the bottom of the gorge was invisible, from the 
steepness of its sides. 

Straight down went the trail, descending a thousand feet 
in the distance of a mile. It was Hke riding down the roof 
of a Gothic church. The horses planted themselves on their 
fore feet, and in some places slid, rather than walked. The 
jolts, or shocks, with which they continually brought up, 
jarred us in every joint. Superb as was the forest around, 
lovely as were the glimpses into the wild dells on either 
side, we scarcely heeded them, but looked forward at every 
turn for the inn which was to bring us comfort. At last we 
saw the river, near at hand. The trail, notched along the 
side of its precipitous banks, almost overhung it, and a sin- 



80 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

gle slip would have sent horse and rider into its bed. Ha! 
here is a row of bathing shanties. A thin thread of steam 
puffs out of a mound of sulphur-colored earth, opposite. Is 
that all? was my first dolorous query — followed by the 
reflection : if there were nothing here, we have still been 
a thousand times repaid. But — there comes the hotel at 
last ! 

It was a pleasant frame building of two stories, sur- 
rounded with spacious verandas. Patriarchal oaks shaded 
the knoll on which it stood, and the hot river roared over 
volcanic rocks below. A gentleman, sitting tilted against 
a tree, quietly scrutinized us. While I was lifting my help- 
less companion from the saddle, an Indian ostler took the 
beasts, and an elegant lady in a black-velvet basque and 
silk skirt came forward to receive us. I was at a loss how 
to address her, until the unmistakable brogue and manners 
betrayed the servant-gal. She conducted us to the baths, 
and then assumed a graceful position on a rock until we 
had washed away the aches of our bones in the liquid sul- 
phur. A pipe, carried from a spring across the river, sup- 
plies the baths, which have a temperature of about 100 
degrees. In their vicinity is a cold sj^ring, strongly impreg- 
nated ,/ith iron. 

The bath, a lunch, and a bottle of good claret, restored 
ns so thoroughly, that my wife declared her ability to make 
the tour of the Geysers at once. In the meantime, Mr. 
Godwin, the proprietor of the hotel and the adjacent Pan- 
demonium, arrived with Capt. Davidson, who had been 
endeavoring to ascertain the temperature of the steam. 
The former was kind enough to be our guide, and we set 



I^EW PICTURES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 81 

out immediately, for the remaining hour and a half of day- 
light was barely sufficient for the undertaking. The Gey- 
sers lie in a steep little lateral canon, the mouth of which 
opens on Pluton river, exactly opposite the hotel. The 
best way to visit them is, to enter the bottom of this canon, 
and so gradually climb to the top. Many persons, ladies 
especially, are deterred from attempting it, but there is 
nothing very difficult or dangerous in the feat. The air of 
the valley is strongly flavored with sulphur, but beyond 
this fact, and the warmth of the stream, there are no indi- 
cations of the phenomena near at hand. 

Mr. Godwin first showed us an iron spring, in a rude 
natural basin among the rocks. The water is so strongly 
ferruginous, that a thick, red scum gathers on the top of it, 
and the stones around are tinted a deejD crimson. A little 
further there is an alkaline spring, surrounded with bub- 
bling jets of sulphur. The water becomes warmer as we 
climb, the air more stifling, and the banks of the ravine 
higher, more ragged in form, and more glaringly marked 
with dashes of fiery color. Here and there are rocky 
chambers, the sides of which are incrusted with patches of 
sulphur crystals, while in natural pigeon-holes are deposits 
of magnesia, epsom salts, and various alkaline mixtures. 
One of these places is called the Devil's Apothecary Shop. 
Hot sulphur springs become more frequent, gushing up 
wherever a little vent-hole can be forced through the rocks. 
The ground grows warm under our feet, and a light steam 
begins to arise from the stream. The path is very stee]), 
slippery, and toilsome. 

After passing several hot springs, impregnate^ with 

4-^ 



82 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

epsom salts and magnesia, we come, finally, to the region 
where sulphur maintains a diabolical pre-eminence. The 
trees which shade the ravine in the lower part of its course, 
now disappear. All vegetation is blasted by the mixture 
of powerful vapors. The ground is hot under your feet : 
you hear the bubbling of boiling springs, and are half 
choked by the rank steam that arises from them. From 
bubbling, the springs at the bases of the rocks gradually 
change to jetting, in quick, regular throbs, yet — what is 
most singular in this glen of wonders — no two of them pre- 
cisely alike. Some are intermittently weak and strong, 
like a revolving light; some are rapid and short, others 
exhale long, fluttering pants or sighs, and others again 
have a double, reciprocal motion, like the sistole and dia- 
stole of the heart. In one you fancy you detect the move- 
ment of a subterranean piston-rod. They have all received 
fantastic names, suggested by their mode of working. 

With the light bubbling and sputtering of these springs, 
and the dash of the boiling brook, there now mingles a 
deeper sound. Above us are the gates of the great cham- 
ber, whose red, burnt walls we dimly see through volumes 
of whirling steam — nothing else is visible. We walk in a 
sticky slush of sulphur, which burns through the soles of 
our boots ; we gasp for breath as some fiercer whiff drives 
across our faces. A horrible mouth yawns in the black 
rock, belching forth tremendous volumes of sulphurous 
vapor. Approaching as near as we dare, and looking in, 
we see the black waters boiling in mad, pitiless fury, foam- 
ing around the sides of their prison, spirting in venomous 
froth over its jagged lips, and sending forth a hoarse, hiss- 



NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFORXIA. 83 

ing, almost howling sound. This is the Witches' Caldron. 
Its temi^erature, as approximately ascertained by Capt. 
Davidson, is about 500 degrees. An egg dipped in and 
taken out is boiled ; and Avere a man to fall in, he would be 
reduced to broth in two minutes. 

Climbing to a little rocky point above this caldron, we 
pause to take breath and look around. This is the end of 
the caiion — the gulf of perdition in which it takes its rise. 
The torn, irregular walls around us glare with patches of 
orange, crimson, sulphur, livid gray, and fiery brown, which 
the last rays of the sun, striking their tops, turn into masses 
of smouldering fire. Over the rocks, crusted as with a 
mixture of blood and brimstone, pour angry cataracts of 
seething milky water. In every corner and crevice, a little 
piston is working or a heart is beating, while from a hun- 
dred vent-holes about fifty feet above our heads, the steam 
rushes in terrible jets. I have never beheld any scene so 
entirely infernal in its appearance. The rocks burn under 
you ; you are enveloped in fierce heat, strangled by puffs 
of diabolical vapor, and stunned by the awful hissing, spit- 
ting, sputtering, roaring, threatening sounds — as if a dozen 
steamboats blowing through their escape-pipes, had aroused 
the ire of ten-thousand hell-cats. You seem to have ven- 
tured mto a prohibited realm. The bubbling pulses of the 
springs throb in angry excitement, the great vents over- 
head blow warning trumpets, and the black caldron darts 
up frothy arms to clutch and drag you down. 

I was rather humiliated, that I alone, of all the party, 
was made faint and sick by the vapors. We thereupon 
climbed the "nery Alps," crushing the brittle sulphur- 



84 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

crystals, and slipping on the steep planes of hot mud, until 
we reached the top, whence there is a more agreeable, but 
less impressive view of the pit. I here noticed that the 
steam rushes from the largest of the vent-holes with such 
force, and heated to such a degree, that it first becomes 
visible at the distance of six feet from the earth. It there 
begins to mix with the air, precipitate its moisture, and 
increases in volume to the height of eighty feet. In the 
morning, when the atmosphere is cool, the columns rise 
fully two hundred feet. These tremendous steam-escapes 
are the most striking feature of the place. The term 
" Geysers" is incorrect : there is no spouting, as in the 
springs of Iceland — no sudden jets, with pauses of rest 
between : yet the phenomena are not less curious. Mr. 
Godwin informed me that the amount of steam discharged 
is greater during the night than by day, and in winter than 
in summer. I presume, however, that this is only a differ- 
ence in the visible amount, depending on the temperature 
of the air — the machinery working constantly at the same 
rate of pressure. 

A short distance to the east is another cluster of pulsating 
springs, on the side of the hill. Here the motions are again 
different, and present some curious appearances. In one 
place are two pistons working against each other ; in ano- 
ther, a whirling motion, like that produced by the blades of 
a propeller. Still further up the valley are other springs, 
which we had no time to visit. The accounts heretofore 
published are very incorrect. No appreciable difference in 
the temperature of the valley is occasioned by these springs. 
The hotel is 1800 feet above the sea, and snow falls in the 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 85 

winter. The abundance of maples and deciduous oaks 
shows the same decrease of warmth as is elsewhere observed 
at the same height. The plan of planting tropical trees on 
the sides of the canon, which I have seen mentioned in the 
California newspapers, is preposterous, l^o vegetation can 
exist within the limits of the heated soil. 

Sunset was fading from the tops of the northern hills, as 
we returned to the hotel. The wild, lonely grandeur of 
the valley — the contrast of its Eden-like slopes of turf and 
forest, with those ravines of Tartarus — charmed me com- 
pletely, and I would willingly have passed weeks in explor- 
ing its recesses. A stage-road is to be made over the 
mountain, but I should prefer not to be among the first pas- 
sengers. One man, they say, has already driven across in 
his buggy — a feat which I could not believe to be possible. 
The evening before our arrival, a huge grizzly bear walked 
past the hotel, and the haunch of a young one, killed the 
same day, formed part of our dinner. In the evening I sat 
in the veranda, enjoying the moonlight and Capt. David- 
son's stories of his adventures among the coast tribes, until 
thoroughly overcome by sleep and fatigue. 

At sunrise, the hissing and roaring was distinctly audible 
across the valley. The steam rose in broad, perpendicular 
columns, to an immense height. There was no time for 
another visit, however, for we were obliged to reach ISTapa 
City the same evening, and by seven o'clock were in our 
saddles. The morning air was fragrant with bay and aro- 
matic herbs as we climbed the awful steep. A sweet wind 
whispered in the pines, and the mountains, with their hues 
of purple and green and gold, basked in glorious sunshine. 



86 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

In spite of the rough trail and rougher horses, we got back 
to Ray's in three hours and forty minutes. My companion 
dropped from the saddle into a chair, unable to move. Mr. 
Dickinson, with kindly forethought, had provided some 
melons, and I think I was never refreshed with more cold 
and luscious hydromel. 



4. — A Struggle to Keep an Appointment. 

The change from our bone-racking saddle-horses to the 
light, easy buggy and span of fast blacks, made the com- 
mencement of our journey a veritable luxury, in spite of 
the heat and dust. Our road led up a latef'al arm of Rus- 
sian River Yalley, extending eastward toward the foot of 
Mount St. Helene. Though the country was but thinly 
settled, there was more than one stately two-story farm- 
house standing, with a lordly air, in its natural park of oaks, 
and we passed — what I had been longing to see — a school- 
house. The few cultivated fields were fenced without re- 
gard to expense — or, rather, with a proper regard to their 
bountiful harvests — yet the trees, whose slaughter we had 
lamented, further down the valley, were generously spared. 
The oaks were hung with streamers of silver-gray moss, 
from one to three feet long, and resembling, in texture, the 
finest point-lace. So airy and delicate was this ornament, 
that the groves through which we passed had nothing of 
that sombre, weeping character which makes the cypress 
swamps of the South so melancholy. Here they were 



NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 87 

decked as if for a bridal, and slept in languid, happy beauty, 
in the lap of the golden hills. 

More than once, the road was arbitrarily cut off, and 
turned from its true course, by the fencing in of new fields. 
This was especially disagreeable where a cove of level bot- 
tom-land had been thus inclosed, and we were forced to 
take the hill-side, where the wheels slipped slowly along-, 
one side being dangerously elevated above the other. I 
was informed (whether truly or not I cannot say) that the 
county has never yet located a single road — consequently, 
the course of the highways is w^holly at the mercy of the 
settlers, each of whom makes whatever changes his interest 
or convenience may suggest. A mile of side-hill was some- 
times inflicted upon us, when a difference of ten yards 
would have given us a level floor. Our horses, however, 
were evidently accustomed to these peculiarities, and went 
on their way with a steadiness and cheerfulness which I had 
never seen equalled. 

Still more remarkable was their intelligent manner of 
crossing the deep arroyos which we encountered near the 
head of the valley. There were rarely any bridges. The 
road plunged straight down the precipitous side of the gul- 
ly, and then immediately mounted at the same angle. As 
we commenced the descent, the horses held back until they 
seemed to stand on their fore-feet, poising the buggy as a 
juggler poises a chair on his chin. When halfway down, 
they cautiously yielded to the strain, sprang with a sudden 
impetus that took away one's breath, cleared the bottom, 
and, laying hold of the opposite steep as if their hoofs had 
been hands, scrambled to the top before the vehicle had 



88 AT HOME Al^D ABKOAD. 

time to recover its weight by wholly losing the impulsion. 
Kven my inexperienced companion, to whom these descents 
seemed at first so perilous, was soon enabled to make them 
with entire confidence in the sagacity of the noble animals. 

In one instance, they showed a self-]3ossession almost 
human. We came to an arroyo, which, at first sight, ap- 
peared to be impassable. It was about forty feef deep, the 
sides dropping at an angle of forty-five degrees, and meet- 
ing in a pool of water at the bottom. Down we went, 
with a breathless rush ; but, fearing that the sudden change 
from the line of descent to that of ascent might snap some 
bolt in the vehicle, I checked the speed of the horses more 
than was prudent. We were but half way up the other 
side, when the buggy recovered its weight, and began to 
drag back. They felt, instantaneously, the impossibility of 
bringing it to the top; stopped; backed, with frightful 
swiftness, to the bottom, and a yard or two up the side they 
had just descended ; then, leaping forward, in a sort of 
desperate fury, throwing themselves almost flat against the 
steep, every glorious muscle quivering with its tension, they 
whirled us to the summit. I felt my blood flush and my 
nerves. tingle, as if I had witnessed the onset of a forlorn 
hope. 

Finally, the valley, growing narrower, wholly lost itself 
in a labyrinth of low, steeply-rounded, wooded hills. The 
road, following the dry bed of a stream, was laboriously 
notched in the sides of these elevations. There was barely 
room for a single vehicle, and sometimes the hub of one 
wheel would graze the perpendicular bank, while the tire 
of the other rolled' on the very brink of the gulf below us. 



NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 89 

The chasms were spanned by the rudest kind of corduroy 
bridges. Bad and dangerous as the road was, it was really 
a matter of surprise that there should have been any road 
at all. The cost of the work must have been considerable, 
as the canon is nearly two miles in length. I had every 
confidence in the sagacity of our horses, and knew that our 
vehicle could safely go where a settler's cart had already 
gone; but there was one emergency, the possibility of 
which haunted me until my nerves fairly trembled. What 
if we should meet another vehicle in this pass ! No turn- 
ing out, no backing, often not even the chance of lowering 
one of them by ropes until the other could pass ! The 
turnings were so sharp and frequent, that it was impossible 
to see any distance ahead ; and I approached every corner 
with a temporary suspension of breath. Suddenly, in the 
heart of the canon, where the bays exhaled thick fragrance 
in the hot air, a dust arose, and horses' heads appeared 
from behind a rock. My heart jumped into my mouth for 
an instant, then — riders, thank Heaven ! 

" Is there a team behind you ?'' I cried. 

" I think not," said one of them. " Hurry on, and you're 
safe !» 

The pass opened into a circular valley, behind which 
towered, in the east, the stupendous bulk of Mount St. 
Helene. This peak received its name from the Russian 
settlers, as a compliment to the Grand-Duchess Helene. 
It is generally called St. Helena by the Americans — who, 
of all people, have least sense of the fitness of names. The 
mountain, 5,000 feet high, rises grandly above all the 
neighboring chains. As seen from this point, its outline 



90 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

strikingly resembles that of a recumbent female figure, 
hidden under a pall of purple velvet. It suggests to your 
mind Coreggio's Magdalen, and a statue of St. Cecilia in 
one of the churches of Rome. The head is raised and 
propped on the folded arms ; the line of the back swells 
into the full, softly-rounded hip, and then sweeps away 
downward in the rich curve of the thigh. Only this Titaness 
is robed in imperial hues. The yellow mountains around 
are pale by contrast, and the forests of giant redwood 
seem but the bed of moss on which rests her purple drapery. 

It was now past noon, and still a long way to Napa 
City, where I had engaged to lecture in the evening. I 
supposed, however, that we were already in Napa Valley, 
with all the rough and difficult part of the road behind us. 
Driving up to the first settler's shanty I accosted a coarse, 
sunburnt fellow, who was making a corral for pigs and cattle, 

"How far to Napa?" . 

" Well (scratching his head), I don't exactly know." 

*' Is this Napa Valley ?'' I tfeen asked. 

" No," he answered ; " this is Knight's Valley. You've 
got to pass Knight's afore you come to Napa." 

Presently, another man came up with a lasso in his hand, 
and stated, with a positive air of knowledge that was refresh- 
ing, that we had thirty miles to go. In doubtful cases, how- 
ever, I never trust to a single informant ; and this was the 
result of my inquiries in passing through Knight's Valley: 

Head of valley (to Napa City) 30 miles. 

A mile further '' " 27 « 

Half mile " " 35 " 

One " " " 45 " 

One-fourth mile " " 40(1)" 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 91 

After this, I gave up the attempt in desjDair, being satis- 
fied that I was upon the right road, and that if the place 
could be reached, I should reach it. At Knight's, near the 
eastern end of the valley, we found a company of emigrants, 
who had just crossed the plains, and were hastening on, 
dusty and way-worn, to settle on Russian River. The men 
were greasing the wheels of their carts, while the younger 
children unhitched and watered the horses. The former 
had a sullen, unfriendly look — the result of fatigue and 
privation. An emigrant, at the close of such a journey, is 
the least social, the least agreeable of men. He is in a 
bad humor with the world, wdth life, and with his fellow- 
men. Let him alone; in another year, when his harsh 
experience has been softened by memory, the latent kind- 
ness of his nature returns — unless he be an incorrigible 
Pike. Nothing struck me more pleasantly, during this trip, 
than the uniform courtesy of the people whom we met. 

Crossing an almost imperceptible divide, after leaving 
Knight's, we found ourselves in Napa Valley. The scenery 
wore a general resemblance to that of Russian River, but 
wds, if possible, still more beautiful. Mount St. Helene 
formed a majestic rampart on the north ; the mountain- 
walls on either hand were higher, more picturesquely 
broken, and more thickly wooded ; the oaks rising from 
the floor of the valley, were heavier, more ancient — some 
of them, in fact, absolutely colossal — and fir-trees two hun- 
dred feet in height rose out of the dark glens. A wide, 
smooth highway, unbroken by arroyos, carried us onward 
through Druid groves, past orchards of peach and fig, 
farm-cottages nestled in roses, fields and meadows, and the 



92 AT HOALE AND ABROAD. 

sunuy headlands of the mountains. It was a region of 
ravishing beauty, and brought back, lovelier than before, 
the day-dreams which had haunted me in the valley of San 
Jose. 

As the valley grew broader, and settlements became more 
frequent, we encountered the old plague of dust. The 
violet mountains, the golden fields, even the arching ave- 
nues of the evergreen oaks vanished in the black cloud, 
which forced me to close my eyes, and blindly trust to the 
horses. To add to our discomfort, we were obliged to 
pass drove after drove of cattle, each enveloped in almost 
impenetrable darkness. But my gallant blacks whirled on, 
in spite of it, and at sunset we reached a gate with the 
inscription " Oak Knoll" — the welcome buoy which 
guided us into our harbor for the night. 

Oak Knoll is the residence of Mr. Osborne, one of the 
largest farmers and most accomplished horticulturists in 
California. His ranche of 1600 acres is on the western 
side of the valley, four miles north of lISTapa City. It is a 
princely domain, as it comes from the hands of Nature, and 
its owner has sufficient taste not to meddle unnecessarily 
with her work. The majestic oaks she has nurtured for 
centuries form a splendid irregular avenue for the carriage- 
road to his house, which stands upon the mound she placed 
for it, sheltered by the mountains behind, and overlooking 
the valley in front — no glaring mass of brick, or Grecian 
temple with a kitchen attached, but a quaint wooden 
structure, full of queer corners and gables, which seemed 
to have grown by gradual accretion. Its quiet gray 
tint, framed in dark green foliage, was a pleasant relief 



NEW PICTURES FnOM CALIFORNIA. 93 

to the eye, after looking on the dazzling colors of the fields 
and hills. 

After riding to Napa City and back again to Oak Knoll 
in the misty night-air, I felt satisfied with the day's work — 
twelve miles of mountain-climbing, fifty-five in a vehicle, 
and one lecture (equal, under the circumstances, to fifteen 
more !). The next evening, however, was appropriated to 
San Francisco, involving another journey of nearly equal 
extent. So, with the first streak of dawn, I tore my bruised 
body from the delicious embrace of the bed, and prepared 
to leave the castle. The steamer to San Francisco left 
Napa on alternate days, and Tuesday was not one of them. 
There was no other way, then, but to drive to Benicia, cross 
the Straits of Carquinez, take a fresh team to Oakland, and 
catch the last ferry-boat across the Bay. It was a difficult 
undertaking, but it was 2^oss.ible. Mr. Osborne, to whom 
there is no such word as " fail," started us off T\dth a cheer- 
ing prediction and a basket of his choicest fruit. The five 
dusty miles to Napa City soon lay behind us, and I left my 
Petaluma team at a livery stable, in good condition. 

The distance to Benicia was estimated at twenty-two 
miles. It was necessary that I should reach there by eleven 
o'clock, as the ferry-boat only makes a trip every two hours. 
I asked for a two-horse buggy and driver, which the stable- 
keeper refused, on the ground that there was no use for it. 
A less expensive team would do the business. He produced 
a tall, clean-limbed dun mare, which he said would " put 
you through." I could drive, myself, and leave the team 
in Benicia. Ten dollars. There was really no time to make 
^Qy other arrangement, so I acquiesced — wondering why it 



94 AT HOME AND ABllOAD. 

is that the liverymen in California always prefer to let you 
drive to your destination, and then go to the trouble of 
sending for the team. I never obtained a driver — though I 
always offered to pay especially for one — without reluctance. 

It was half-past eight when we were fairly seated and in 
motion. Napa City, by daylight, resembles any young 
Western " city" — which means, a very moderate specimen 
of a village. There were two or three blocks of low houses, 
brick and frame, ambitiously stuck against each other, so as 
to present a metropolitan appearance— outside of these a 
belt of frame cottages inserted in small garden-j^lots, with 
bere and there the ostentatious two-story residence of the 
original speculator and the "head-merchant,'' surmounted 
by a square pigeon-box, called an " observatory" — we all 
know how such a place looks. The population is about 
eight hundred, and not likely to increase very fast, as the 
region supplied from this point does not extend beyond the 
valley. Just below the town, Napa Creek terminates in a 
tide-water slough, which enters the Bay of San Pablo near 
Mare Island, forming a channel for vessels of light draught. 
Tule swamps, forming at first narrow belts on both sides 
of this slough, gradually widen as you descend the valley, 
until, at its mouth, they usurp nearly the whole of its sur- 
face. 

It was impossible to lose the road, I w^as told. I there- 
fore drove on boldly, occupied with getting the dun mare 
gradually warmed up to her best speed, until I noticed that 
we had entered a lateral valley, which lost itself in a deep 
canon between two mountains to the eastward. The road 
was broad and well-travelled; but after proceeding two 



NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFORNIA. 95 

miles, it split into several branches. I began to suspect that 
we were on the wrong trail, and therefore hailed two Avomen 
who were washing clothes near a shanty. They pointed to 
the main branch, which, I could see, climbed the mountain, 
assuring me that it was the road to Suscol — the first stage 
on the way to Benicia. The broad slope of the mountain 
was covered with a stream of lava, from an eruption thou- 
sands of years ago. The rough blocks had been cleared 
away from the road, but the ascent was still very toilsome. 
Twisted live-oaks partly shaded the highway ; above us 
towered the mountain, bare and yellow, while the canon, 
on our left, sank suddenly into a gulf of blue vapor. It was 
a singularly wild and picturesque spot, and I marvelled that 
my friends had made no mention of it. 

From the summit we had a prospect of great beauty. 
All Napa Yalley, bounded to the west by the range which 
divides it from Sonoma, lay at our feet — the transparent 
golden hue of the landscape changing through lilac into 
violet as it was swallow^ed up in the airy distance. The 
white houses of the town gleamed softly in the centre of 
the picture. I gave our animal but a short breathing-spell, 
and hurried on, expecting to find a divide, and a valley be- 
yond, opening southward toward the Straits of Carquinez. 
I was doomed, however, to disappointment. There was 
no divide ; the road became very rough and irregular, with 
side-hill sections, as it wound among the folded peaks. We 
passed the shanty of a settler, but nobody was at home — ■ 
the tents and wagons of an emigrant party, deserted, 
although recently-washed shirts and petticoats hung on the 
bushes ; and, to crown all, no one was abroad in the road. 



96 AT HOME AXD ABKOAD. 

Presently, side-trails began to branch off into the glens ; 
the main trail, which I kept, became fainter, and finally — > 
two miles further — terminated altogether in front of a 
lonely cabin ! 

A terrible misgiving seized me. To miss one's way is 
disagreeable under any circumstances ; but to miss it when 
every minute is of value, is one of those misfortunes which 
gives us a temporary disgust toward life. I sprang from 
the buggy, halloed, tried the doors — all in vain. " O ye 
generation of vipers!" I cried ; " are ye never at home ?" 
Delay was equally impracticable ; so I turned the horse's 
head, and drove rapidly back. A boy of eighteen, who 
came down one of the glens on horseback, thought we 
were on the right road, but wasn't sure. At last I espied 
a shanty at a little distance ; and, leaving the buggy, has- 
tened thither across a ploughed field, taking six furrows at a 
stride. A homely woman, with two upper teeth, was doing 
some washing under a live-oak. " Which is the road to 
Benicia ?" I gasped. " Lord bless you !" she exclaimed, 
" where did you come from ?'' I pointed to the canon. 
" Sakes alive ! that's jist right wrong ! Why didn't you 
keep to the left ? Now you've got to go back to Napa, 
leastways close on to it, and then go down the valley, fol- 
lerin' the telegraph poles.'' 

Talk of a " sinking of the heart !" My midriff gave way 
with a crash, and the heart fell a thousand leagues in a 
second. I became absolutely sick with the despairing sense 
of failure. Here we were, in the mountains, seven miles 
from Napa, all of which must be retraced. It was a doubt- 
ful chance wliether we could reach Benicia in season for the 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 97 

next ferry-boat, at 1 p. m. — and then, how were we to cross 
the mountains to Oakland (twenty-five miles) by 5 p. m. ? 
It had been my boast that I always ke^^t my appointments. 
During the previous winter I had lectured 135 times in six 
months without making a failure. I had ridden all night 
in a buggy, chartered locomotives, spent, in some instances, 
more than I received, but always kept the appointment. I 
had assured my doubting friends in San Francisco that no- 
thing short of an earthquake should prevent me from return- 
ing in season : yet here I was, at ten o'clock in the fore- 
noon, with sixty-six miles of mountains, bays and straits to 
be overcome ! The merchant who loses half his fortune by 
an unlucky venture is a cheerful man, if his sensations could 
be measured with mine. 

I do not know whether other lecturers experience the 
same weight of responsibility. If they do, there is no more 
anxious and unhappy class of men. The smallest part of 
the disappointment, in case of failure, falls upon the lecturer 
himself. In the first place, the evening has been chosen by 
the association which engages him, with a nice regard to 
pecuniary success. Nothing else must interfere, to divide 
the attendance of the public. In the second place, five 
hundred, or a thousand, or three thousand people, as the 
case may be, hurry their tea, or decline invitations, or travel 
many miles, in order to attend ; they " come early to secure 
good seats," wait an hour or two — ^the dreariest of all expe- 
riences — and then go home. It is no agreeable sensation 
to be responsible for the disappointment of one individual : 
multiply this by a thousand, and you will have the sum 
total of my anxiety and distress. 

5 



98 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

Back again, through the wild canon ; down the steep, 
whence the landscape, so sunny before, now looked dark 
and wintry ; over the bed of lava ; across the bottom-land, 
and over the hill we went — until, just in the outskirts of 
ISTapa City, we found the telegraph poles and a broad road 
leading down the valley. Two hours and a half were still 
left us for the twenty-two miles. The dun mare was full 
of spirit, and I began to pluck up a little spirit also. Roll- 
ing along over low, treeless hills, we reached Suscol (five 
miles) in half an hour. The dun mare whisked her tail and 
stretched out her head ; her hoofs beat a lively tattoo on 
the hard, dry soil, as she trotted off mile after mile, without 
a break. A cool wind blew up from the bay, bringing us 
balsam from the fields, and the ride would have been glo- 
rious, if we could have enjoyed it. A carriage travelling 
the same way enveloped us in dust. I submitted to this, as 
we were approaching the town of Yallejo, opposite Mare 
Island, by avoiding which we could save a mile or more, 
and I had a presentiment that the carriage w^as bound for 
Benicia. True enough, it struck into an open trail ; I fol- 
lowed, and in fifteen minutes found myself on the main 
road to Benicia. For this service I thanked the travellers, 
by pushing ahead and giving them clouds of dust to swal- 
low. The straits of Carquinez lay on our right, sparkling 
in the sun. The road crossed the feet of the bare, yellow 
hills, upon which the sun beat with culinary force ; flecks 
of foam gathered on the mare's hide, but she still stepped 
out merrily, and at a quarter before one we were in 
Benicia. 

The ferry-boat, I found, did not leave before half-past 



NEW nCTUEES FROM CALIFORNIA. C9 

one, and consumed half an hour in crossing the Strait to 
Martinez. This left me but three hours and a half for the 
journey thither to Oakland. Clearly it would be impos- 
sible to make the trip over the mountains in a vehicle — but 
it might be done on horseback. I therefore decided to 
leave my wife in Benicia (whence she could reach San Fran- 
cisco by the evening boat from Sacramento) and try my 
further luck alone. Having telegraphed to San Francisco 
that if I should not arrive in the last boat from Oakland, it 
was to be specially sent back for me, regardless of expense, 
there was nothing further to be done. Dinner was upon 
the table at the hotel, but although I had driven forty-one 
miles since breakfast, I found it impossible to eat. 

While waiting at the pier for the ferry-boat, a man came 
up hastily, saying ; 

"Have you heard the news? Broderick is killed!" 
" What ?» " When ?» '• How ?" rang on all sides. 
" This morning — there is a telegraphic dispatch — Judge 
Terry shot him. Broderick is dead, and Terry has run 
away !" " Well," said one of the bystanders, " it's no more 
than was expected." This was true, in fact. I had already, 
a dozen times, at least, heard the prediction : " Broderick 
will be killed after the election is over." I do not suppose 
that there was really anything like a conspiracy to that end, 
as his friends afterwards charged ; but from the virulence 
which marked the campaign, a series of duels was antici- 
pated, in one of which he would probably fall. IN'o man in 
California had warmer friends or bitterer enemies. 

The boat was delayed by taking on board a herd of cat- 
tle, and it was a quarter past two before I landed at Mar- 



100 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

tinez. I hastened up the long pier, and up the hot village 
street, until I discovered a livery stable. The keeper was 
lounging indolently in the shade, and the horses seemed to 
be dozing in their stalls. " Can I magnetize this repose, 
and extract speed from it?" was the question I put to 
myself; whereupon the following dialogue ensued : — 

" I must reach Oakland in time for the last boat for 
San Francisco. Give me two fast saddle-horses and a 
guide." 

" It can't be done !" (with a lazy smile.) 

" It must be done ! What is the shortest time you have 
done it in ?" 

" Four hours." 

" How much do you get — ^two horses and a man ?" 

" Fifteen dollars." 

" You shall have twenty-five — saddle the horses imme- 
diately." 

" There's no use in taking saddle-horses — a two-horse 
buggy will get along faster." 

" Get it then ! Instantly ! Don't lose a second !" 

He was magnetized at last. The pass which I made over 
the region of his pocket, subjected him to my will. Hos- 
tlers, horses, and vehicles, were magnetized, also. There 
was running hither and thither — examination of bolts, 
buckling of straps, comparison of horses — -chaotic tumult 
burst out of slumber. At half-past two I jumped into the 
buggy. We had exactly three hours in which to make a 
journey of twenty-five miles, by a rough road, crossing a 
mountain range two thousand feet high. The horses were 
small, not handsome, but with an air of toughness and 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 101 

courage : the driver had the face of a man who possesses a 
conscience. These were encouraging signs. My spiritual 
mercury immediately rose to fifteen degrees above zero. 

It was hard, though, to sit still while we drove mode- 
rately up the hot glen behind Martinez, waiting for the 
horses to get the requisite wind and flexibility of muscle. 
I quieted my restless nerves with a cigar, sufficiently to 
enjoy the Arcadian beauty of the scenery. Clumps of 
evergreen oak, bay, and sycamore, marked the winding 
course of the stream ; white cottages, embowered in fig- 
trees, nestled at the foot of the hills, every opening fold of 
which disclosed a fresh picture ; and to the eastward tow- 
ered, in airy purple, the duplicate peak of Monte Diablo. 
Out of this glen we passed over low hills into another, and 
still another, enjoying exquisite views of the valleys of 
Pacheco and San Ramon, with Suisun Bay in the distance. 
The landscapes, more contracted than those of Napa and 
San Jose, had a pastoral, idyllic character, and I was sur- 
prised to find how much loveliness is concealed in the heart 
of mountains which, as seen from the Bay, appear so bare 
and bleak. Scarcely any portion of the land was unclaimed. 
Farm succeeded to farm, and little villages were already 
growing up in the broader valleys. 

The afternoon sun burned our faces, though a light 
breeze tempered the heat enough to allow our horses to do 
their best. I urged upon the driver the necessity of mak- 
ing all he could at the start, and evaded his inquiries with 
regard to the time. This plan w^orked so well that ^ve 
reached a village called Lafayette, thirteen miles from 
Martinez, in one hour and ten minutes. Here we watered 



102 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the horses, and I lighted a fresh cigar. The mercury had 
risen to 32°. Beyond this extended a wild, winding valley, 
some three or four miles in length, to the foot of the high 
range. The hills shut us in closely : settlements became 
scanty, and at last we entered a narrow gorge, through 
which the road had been cut with much labor. A clear 
brook murmured at the bottom ; bay-leaves scented the air, 
and climbing vines fell over us in showers, from the 
branches of the trees. Through the dark walls in front 
rose the blue steep of the mountain which we were obliged 
to scale. The roughness of the road and the chance of 
being stopped by meeting another team could not wholly 
spoil my delight in the wild beauty of this pass. 

Now we grappled with the bare mountain-side, up which 
the road zigzagged out of sight, far above. Of course, it 
was impossible for the horses to proceed faster than a walk, 
and the lingering remnants of my anxiety were lost sight 
of in the necessity of preserving the equilibrium of our 
vehicle on those sidelong grades. We leaned, first to the 
right and then to the left, changing at every turn, to keep 
our wheels upon the slippery plane, until the shoulder of 
the range was surmounted, and we saw the comb about 
half a mile distant. From the summit we looked down, as 
from the eaves of a house, into the throat of a precipitous 
canon which yawned below us. Between its overlapping 
sides glimmered, far away, a little triangle of the Bay of San 
Francisco. Now, let us see how much time is left to reach 
the shores of that blue vision ? Fifty-five minutes ! The 
mercury immediately sank to 10°. 

What a plunge it was until we reached the bottom of the 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIF0R2sIA. 103 

summit-wall, where the first springs gushed forth! — and 
how the horses held back, with our weight pressing upon 
them, was more than I could understand. The narrow 
canon then received us, and the horses, as if maddened with 
the previous restraint, dashed recklessly down the shelving 
road, which, as it crossed from one side to the other, back 
and forth, obliged us to fling our weight always on the 
uppermost wheels. From the rapidity of their descent, a 
little jolt would have been sufficient to have hurled us over 
into the bed of the stream. The excitement of the race 
made us perfectly regardless of the danger : there was even 
a keen sense of enjoyment, to me, in the mad, reckless man- 
ner in which we turned the sharp corners of the ravine, or 
spun along brinks where the pebbles, displaced by our 
wheels, rattled on stones twenty feet below. Neither of us 
said a word, but held fast for life, flinging our bodies half 
out of the vehicle as the road shifted sides. There was one 
fear hanging over us, but we no more mentioned it than the 
Alpine traveller would shout under the poised avalanche 
which the sound of his voice might start from its bed. 

Corner after corner was passed ; the horizon of the Bay, 
seen through the gap in front, sank lower, and the inter- 
vening plain glimpsed nearer. Then a house appeared — lo ! 
the end of the canon, and in fifteen minutes from the top 
Ave had made the descent of more than two miles ! "VYe 
both, at the same instant, drew a long, deep breath of relief, 
and the driver spoke out the thought which was in my own 
mind. " That's what I was afraid of," said he, without 
further explanation. " So was I," was my answer. "I didn't 
say a word about it, for fear talking of it would make it 



104 AT II0:^1E AND ABROAD. 

happen — but think, if we had met another team on the way 
down!" "But we didnH^^^ I shouted; "and now we'll 
catch the boat ! And my thermometer stands at 90° — and 
the world is beautiful — and life is glorious — and all men 
are my brethren !" He smiled a quiet, satisfied smile, 
merely remarking : " I thought I'd do it." 

The remaining trot of five miles over the plain was child's 
play, compared with what we had done. When our smok- 
ing and breathless horses were pulled up on the steamboat 
pier at Oakland, there were just eight minutes to spare ! 
We had made the trip from Martinez in two hours and fifty' 
two minutes — the shortest time in which it had ever been 
accomplished. The bystanders, to whom my driver trium- 
phantly proclaimed his feat, would not believe it. I paid 
the stipulated twenty-five dollars with the greatest cheer- 
fulness — every penny of it had been well earned — ^jumped 
aboard the ferry-boat, and threw myself on one of the cabin 
sofas with an exquisite feeling of relief. The anxiety I had 
endured through the day wholly counteracted the fatigue 
of the journey, and the excitement continued without the 
usual reaction. When we reached San Francisco, at seven 
o'clock, I found my friends waiting for me on the pier. 
They had arranged to send the boat back in case I should 
not arrive, which would have cost one hundred dollars. 

Fortifying myself with repeated doses of strong coffee 
(for there was no time to get dinner), I made my appear- 
ance on the rostrum at the appointed hour. My face was 
baked and blistered by the sun, and my lungs somewhat 
exhausted by the day's labors, but I went through the dis- 
course of an hour and a half with very little more than the 



NEW PICTURES FKOM CALIFORNIA. 105 

usual fatigue. At the close, when I felt inclmed to congra- 
tulate myself a little, I was rather taken aback by my friends, 
who seeing my fiery face, and knowing nothing of the day's 
struggle, exclaimed, with wricked insinuation: "You have 
been dining out this evening !" At ten o'clock, my wife 
arrived in the Sacramento boat, and our supper at the Ori- 
ental was a happy finis to the eventful day. 



5. — ^The Sacramento Yalley. 

Before completing my engagement at San Francisco, I 
had already made arrangements for a lecturing tour 
through the interior of the State. Literary associations are 
few in Cahfornia : the prosperity of the mining towns is, in 
general, too precarious — their population too shifting — to 
encourage the growth of permanent institutions of this 
character ; and the lecturer, consequently, misses the sljel- 
ter and assistance to which he has been accustomed at 
home. He must accept the drudgery along with the profit. 
I confess that, after my jDrevious experience, the undertak- 
ing was not tempting ; but while it was incumbent upon 
me to visit the mining regions before leaving California, it 
was also prudent to make the visit (such is human nature !) 
pecuniarily advantageous. For Sacramento and the moun- 
tain-towns, I secured the services of Mr. E , news-agent, 

as avant-coureur, hirer of theatres, poster of placards, and 
distributer of complimentary tickets. 

This arrangement took the drudgery of the business 



106 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

off my hands, it is true ; but, at the same time, it brought 
me before the public in a new and less agreeable character. 
No longer the invited guest of societies— no longer intro- 
duced to audiences by the presidents thereof— I fell to the 
level of itinerant phrenologists and exhibitors of nitrous 
oxide gas : nay — let me confess it — I could no longer look 
down upon the Ethiopian minstrel, or refuse to fraternize 
with the strolling wizard. It did not surprise me, therefore, 
that the principal of a classical academy, in a town which 
shall be nameless, not only refused to hear me, but denied 
permission to his scholars. " He is an author !'' exclaimed 
this immaculate pedagogue ; " yet he degrades his calling 
by thus appearing before the public. I have too much 
resjject for authors to countenance such degradation !'' 

My lecture in Sacramento was to take place on Saturday, 
and my friend. Judge Hastings, of Benicia, arranged for 
the previous evening at the latter place. Preparing our- 
selves, therefore, for a month's journey, we left San Fran- 
cisco in the afternoon boat. 

About twenty-five miles from the Golden Gate, the 
Bay of Pablo terminates, and we enter the Straits of 
Carquinez, which connect it with Suisun Bay, the reservoir 
of the Sacramento and San Joaquin valleys, lying beyond 
the Coast Range. These straits are from six to seven 
miles in length, with a breadth varying from half a mile to 
four miles. With their bold shores, and their varying 
succession of bays and headlands on either side, they have 
been compared to the Bosphorus — which, indeed, they sur- 
pass in natural beauty. When the hills, folding together 
in softly-embracing swells, which give the eye a delight 



NEW PICTURES FKOM CALIFORNIA. 107 

like that of perfect music to the eaiv and now draped in 
gilded velvet as the sunset strikes along their, sides, snail 
be terraced with gardens of never-fading bloom— when, 
besides the live-oak, the dark pillars of the cypress, the 
umbelliferous crowns of the Italian pine and the plumy 
tufts of the hardy Chinese palm shall flourish in their shel- 
tering arms, and when mansion on mansion shall line the 
water's edge, with balconies overhanging the tide, and 
boats tossing at the marble steps — then the magnificent 
water-street which leads from Constantinople to the Euxine 
will find itself not only rivalled, but surpassed. 

As the sun went down, in a blaze of more than Medi- 
terranean beauty, we reached Benicia. In 1849, many 
persons actually supposed that this place would become 
the commercial metropolis of the Pacific, and speculation 
raged among the lots staked out all over its barren 
hills. Vessels of the largest tonnage could lie close to 
the shore, said they — forgetting that it was possible to 
build piers at San Francisco. There was a fine back- 
country — as if all California were not the back-country 
of its metropolis ! In fact, there was no end to the argu- 
ments (especially if you owned a lot) advanced to prove 
that San Francisco must go down, and Benicia must go 
up ! But Commerce is a wilful and a stubborn goddess. 
She pitches on a 'place by a sort of instinct, and all the 
coaxing and forcing in the world won't budge her a jot. 
Benicia was made the headquarters of the Army — but it 
didn't help the matter. Lots were given away, shanties 
built, all kinds of inducements offered — still, trade wouldn't 
come. It was made the State capital — ^but, alas ! it is not 



108 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

even the county seat at j^resent. It is still the same bare 
looking, straggling place as when I first saw it, but with 
more and better houses, the big brick barracks of the sol- 
diers, and the workshops of the Pacific Steamship Company. 
The poi^ulation is about 3,000. 

I have no doubt the failure of his plan broke old Semple's 
heart. Robert Semple, the lank Indiana giant — one of the 
first emigrants to California, and the President of the Con- 
stitutional Convention at Monterey — owned a great part of 
the land, and it would bring, he believed, millions of money 
into his coffers. He never spoke of San Francisco, but 
with the bitterest disgust. " Augh !" he exclaimed to me, 
as we once camped together in the Pajaro Valley; "don't 
mention the name : it makes me sick !" If this feeling was 
general among the speculators, there must have been a 
great many invalids in California about that time. 

The superb, solitary mass of Monte Diablo, robed in the 
violet mist of twilight, rose before us as we landed at Beni- 
cia. Monte Diablo is a more graceful peak than Soracte : 
he reproduces the forms as well as the tints of the storied 
mountains of Greece. Like Helicon or Hymettus, he over- 
looks a ruin. At his base, on the shore of Suisun Bay^ ano- 
ther metropolis was founded by Col. Stevenson, who com- 
manded the New York Regiment sent to California in 1846. 
He called his embryo city (Heaven help us !) " New-York- 
of-the-Pacific !" ]S[ature tolerates many strange names in 
our United States, but this was more than she could stand. 
In 1849, I saw three houses there; and then^ one could not 
venture to laugh at beginnings. What was my joy, when 
I now beheld only two houses — one of them uninhabited — ■ 



NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFOENIA. 109 

and was informed that the shore was covered with the ske- 
letons of musquitos which had died of starvation ! 

To keep my engagement at Sacramento the next evening, 
it was necessary that we should make the journey thither 
by land, a distance of sixty miles. After riding in a jolting 
stage around the great tule marsh, to Suisun City, twenty 
miles off, I had the good luck to meet a gentleman who 
placed a two-horse team at our disposal. We w^ere thus 
free to finish the journey on our old independent footing. 

The day was cloudless, and intensely hot, and even the 
dry, yellow grass appeared to have been scorched off the 
cracked and blistered earth. Low undulations of soil rolled 
away before us, until the plain vanished in fiery haze, and 
the wind which blew over it was as the blast from out a 
furnace. At intervals of four or five miles, we found a set- 
tler's cabin, with its accompanying corral and garden, and 
a windmill, lazily turning in tbe heated gusts. Miles away 
on our right, a blue line of timber marked the course of the 
Sacramento River, apparently separated from us by a lake, 
dotted with island-like clumps of trees. Every distant 
depression of the plain was filled with the same illusive water. 
!N^ewly-arrived emigrants, unacquainted with the mirage, 
often ride far out of their trail, in the endeavor to reach 
these airy pools. An accustomed eye has no difficulty in 
detecting them, as the color is always that of the sky, 
whereas real water is a darker blue. 

After a steady travel of nearly five hours, the road 
swerved to the right, and ascended an artificial dyke, or 
embankment, which has been made with much labor, in 
order to raise it above the reach of the winter floods. At 



110 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

intervals of fifty or a hundred yards, there are bridges, to 
allow passage for the water : and I think we must have 
crossed twenty-five of them in the distance of a mile. On 
either side were dried-up swamps of giant tulfe. This 
causeway conducted us to the river-bank, which is consi- 
derably higher than the plain in its rear. Thence, for six 
miles, we followed the course of the stream — the road, deep 
in dust, winding among golden and purple thickets, which 
exhaled the most delicious fragrance, and under the arching 
arms of the oak and sycamore. It was a storehouse of 
artistic foregrounds. I know not which charmed us most 
— the balmy, shadowed sweetness of the air, the dazzling 
gaps of sunshine, the picturesque confusion of forms, or the 
splendid contrasts of color. 

Four miles below Sacramento, we crossed {he river on a 
ferry-scow, and hastened onward through Sutterville ; for 
the sun was nigh his setting. A cloud of white dust hid 
the city, and lay thick and low all over the plain. Increas- 
ing in volume, huge, billowy eddies of it rolled toward us, 
and we were presently blinded by the clouds that ^rose 
from our own wheels. Of the last two miles of the drive I 
can say nothing — for I saw nothing. Often there was a 
rattling of wheels near me, as the strings of vehicles return- 
ing from the fair-grounds passed by ; but the horses instinct- 
ively avoided a collision. I shut my eyes, and held my 
breath as much as possible, untU there came a puff of fresher 
air, and I found myself in one of the watered streets of the 
city. Blinded, choked, and sun-burned, we alighted at the 
St. George Hotel, and were so lucky as to find a room. 
The city, like San Francisco, was altogether a different 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALTFOKNIA. ]i; 

place from the picture in my memory. Having been not 
only laid in ashes, but completely washed away by the 
inundation of 1853, not a house remains from the pioneer 
times. It was, in reality, only six years old — a fact which 
accounted for the light character of much of the architec- 
ture, and the unusual number of one-story buildings. The 
streets are broad, inflexibly right-angled, and prosaically 
named after the numerals, and the letters of the alphabet. 
The business portion of the city extends five or six blocks 
back from the river, and a greater distance along J, K, and 
L streets. Beyond this region, there are many beautiful 
private residences and gardens. The place is greatly 
admired by its inhabitants, but the uniformity of surface 
and plan made it appear tame and monotonous, after San 
Francisco. 

The first thing I looked for, and totally missed, was the 
profusion of grand, ancient oaks and sycamores, which once 
adorned the streets. Every one had fallen — some destroyed 
in the conflagration, but the most part cut down, because 
they interfered with buildings, or dropped their aged limbs 
in a storm. Their place was miserably filled with rows of 
young cottonwoods, of astonishing growth, which cast 
alternate showers of down and sticky gum upon the gar. 
ments of those who walk in their shade. I grieved over 
the loss of the noble old trees. Perhaps it was inevitable 
that they should fall, but it was none the less melancholy. 

Sacramento is a cheerful, busy town of about 15,000 
inhabitants, with a State-house which would be imposing if 
it were all one color, substantial churches and school-houses, 
a few flourishing manufactories, and drinking saloons innu- 



112 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

merable. It boasts the best daily paper in the State {The 
Union), the biggest hotel, and (being the capital) the worst 
class of politicians. It is a city whose future is sure, 
but whose character must necessarily be provincial. Its 
difference from San Francisco, in this respect, is already 
striking. 

Hearing the sound of solemn singing in the street, on 
Sunday morning, I went upon the balcony. There was 
a crowd below, collected around a young man with a pale 
face and short-cut blonde hair, who was singing a Method- 
ist hymn, in a clear, penetrating voice. After he had 
finished, he commenced an exhortation which lasted about 
twenty minutes, the crowd listening with respectful atten- 
tion. At its close, a seedy-looking individual went around 
with a hat, with such good result, that some twenty or thir- 
ty dollars in silver were poured out on a 'stone at the 
preacher's feet. By this time, most of the ladies in the 
hotel were collected on the balcony. Casting his eyes up- 
ward, the preacher acknowledged their presence in a series 
of remarks rather courtly than clerical. He concluded by 
saying : " That distinguished traveller, jBay-ard Taylor, has 
also stated that, wherever he went, he was kindly treated by 
the ladies! When he visited the Esquimaux, in the Arctic 
Regions, the ladies received him with great hospitality ; 
and even among the Hottentots, his friends were still — the 
ladies!^'' Not content with attributing Ledyard's senti- 
ment to myself, he made that noble traveller guilty of a vul- 
garism. Ledyard said "^(;oma/^," not "lady.'' After this, 
I can almost credit Miss Martineau's statement, that an 
American clergyman said, in one of his sermons : " Who 



NEW PICTUEES FIIOM CALIFORNIA. 113 

were last at the cross ? Ladies ! Who were earliest at the 
sepulchre ? Ladies !" 

The State Agricultural Fair (then in progress) was held 
in a Pavilion, the erection of which, for this special occa 
sion, was the boast of the city. It was a hall of brick, rest- 
ing on a basement — two hundred, by one hundred and fifty 
feet in dimensions, and fifty in height. About seven weeks, 
only, were consumed in building it. The display of pro- 
ductions — agricultural, horticultural, mineral, mechanical, 
and artistic — astonished even the Californians themselves. 
Few of them had been aware of the progress which their 
State had made in the arts — nor, though familiar with the 
marvellous energies of her soil, could they guess how rich 
and varied were its productions, until thus brought toge- 
ther. Few of the annual fairs of our Atlantic States could 
have surpassed it in completeness, to say nothing of the 
vegetable wonders which can be seen nowhere else in the 
world. 

Entering the basement, you saw before -you a collection 
of carriages, fire-engines, saddlery, harness, furniture, and 
agricultural implements — all of California manufacture : 
blocks of granite and freestone, blue, white, and amber 
Suisun marble : statuary, cured hams, pickles, sauces, pre- 
serves, canned fruits, dried fruits, honey, oil, olives, soap, 
butter, cheese, vinegar : twenty or thirty different varieties 
of wine : rows of bee-hives near the windows, which were 
opened, that the unembarrassed insects might go on with 
their work : rope, tanned hides, boots, clothing ; in short, 
all the necessaries of life, and not a few of the luxuries. 
Coming upon a pile of green boulders — huge geodes of 



114 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

malachite, you suspect — you find them to be water-melons 
walkmg down a glen, between rounded masses of orange 
colored rock, you see, at last, that they are only pumpkins, 
weighing two hundred and sixty pounds apiece ! What is 
this silvery globe, the size of your head ? Bless me, an 
onion ! Are those turnips, or paving-stones ? White 
columns of celery, rising from the floor, curl their crisp 
leaves over your head ; those green war-clubs are cucum- 
bers ; and these legs, cut off at the groin and clad in orange 
tights, are simply carrots ! 

Again, I say, it is useless to attempt a description of 
California vegetables. The above comparisons suggest no 
exaggeration to those who havje seen the objects — yet my 
readers this side of the Rocky Mountains will not believe 
it. GroAvth so far beyond the range of our ordinary expe- 
rience seems as great a miracle as any which have been 
performed by the toe-nails of saints. I have been informed 
even, that some vegetables change their nature, after being 
transplanted here for a few years. The lima-bean becomes 
perennial, with a woody stem; the cabbage, even (though 
I should prefer seeing this), is asserted, in one instance, to 
have changed into a sort of shrub, bearing a head on the 
end of every branch ! I believe no analysis of the various 
soils of California has yet been made. It would be curious 
to ascertain whether this vegetable vigor is mostly due to 
a fortunate climate, or to a greater proportion of nutriment 
in the earth than is elsewhere found. 

The great hall was devoted principally to fruits, and pre- 
sented a rare banquet of color and perfume. Green, lemon- 
yellow, gold, orange, scarlet, pink, crimson, purple, violet, 



XEW PICTUKE3 FROM CALIFOEXIA. llc 

blue, and their mottled combinations, fairly made the mouth 
water from the delight of the eye. There were thousands 
of specimens, from gardens in the Sierra Nevada and gar- 
dens on the sea-coast ; in Los Angeles, under the palm, and 
in Oregon under the pine. A fountain, at one end of the 
hall, played upon two enormous cubes of crystal ice — one 
from Nevada Lake and one from Sitka. The latter was so 
airily clear, that it would have been invisible but for the 
gleam of light on the edges. As an illustration of progress 
in California, the contents of the pavilion were doubly re- 
markable. Who so mad, ten years ago, as to have pre- 
dicted this result ? Who, now, can appreciate, without 
seeing it ? 

I must not leave Sacramento without speaking of the 
garden and nursery of Mr. A. P. Smith, a visit to which 
was the crown and culminating point of a glorious ride over 
the plain around the city. After dragging along through 
deep roads, where wagon-loads of straw had been scattered, 
to keep down the dust, we approached the American Fork, 
some three miles above Sacramento. There were various 
suburban beer-gardens, shaded with cottonwoods, and with 
long arbors of grape-vines to attract the Teutonic imbibers 
— all of them pleasant places, but tame and vulgar in com- 
parison to what we were to see. 

An avenue, lined with locusts and arhor vitm^ conducted 
us, finally, to some neat wooden cottages, the verandas of 
which were overrun with the scarlet-fruited passion-flower. 
A clean gravel road inclosed a circle of turf, in the centre 
whereof grew willow, locust, and pomegranate trees,beyond 
which extended a wilderness of splendid bloom. Behind 



116 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the house rose the fringe of massive timber which lines the 
American Fork. A series of stairs and balcony-terraces 
connected one cottage Avith another, and formed an easy 
access to the very roof-tree. A wild grape-vine, which had 
so covered an evergreen oak that it resembled a colossal 
fountain, pouring forth volumes of falling Bacchic leaves, 
stretched forth arms from the topmost boughs, took hold 
of the balconies, and ran riot up and down the roof, wav- 
ing its arms above the very chimneys. Behind this Tita- 
nic bower were thickets of bay and willow, with a glimpse 
of the orange-colored river, framed on the opposite side, 
by as grand and savage a setting. From the top of the 
roof, the eye overlooked the whole glorious garden, the 
spires of the city, the yellow plain, vanishing in purple haze, 
and the range of violet mountains in the east. 

I was curious to see what had been done toward intro- 
ducing the treeSf and plants of other parts of the world into 
a climate so favorable to all, from Egypt to Norway. I 
found even more than I had anticipated. There, side by 
side, in the open air, grew the natives of Mexico, Australia, 
the Cape of Good Hope, China, the Himalayas, Syria, Italy, 
and Spain. The plants were mostly very young, as suffi- 
cient time had not elapsed since the seeds were procured, 
to enable any of them to reach a full development ; but the 
character of their growth was all that could be desired. To 
my great delight, I found not only the Indian deodar and 
the funeral cypress of China, but the cedar of Lebanon, 
and the columnar cypress of Italy, and the Orient. The 
exquisite Cape ericas and azaleas flourished as in their native 
air ; the thready tamarack of Africa, the Indian-rubber 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 11 7 

tree, the Australian eucalyptus^ and the Japanese camelia 
were as lush and luxuriant as if rejoicing in their new home. 
In the conservatories, no artificial heat is required, except 
for the orchids and other tender tropical plants. What a 
vegetable splendor will California present in fifty years from 
now ! I should almost be content to live so long, that my 
eyes might behold it. 

Not less remarkable was the superior luxuriance which 
the growths of the Atlantic States exhibit, when transferred 
to the Pacific Side. The locust, especially, doubles the 
size of its leaf, and its pinnated tufts almost rival those of 
the sago palm. The paiolonia spreads a tremendous shield . 
and even the evergreens, especially the thuya^ manifest a 
new vitality. The rose is frequently so large as to suggest 
the idea of a peony, yet loses nothing of its fragrance and 
beauty. I never beheld a more exquisite bouquet of half- 
blown roses, than Mr. Smith's gardener cut for my com- 
panion. Great beds of violets, heliotrope, and mignonette, 
fairly ran wild, like weeds, and the lemon verbena became 
a bush, higher than our heads. The breezes fainted with 
excess of perfume as they came over this garden — the lan- 
guid, voluptuous atmosphere of which can only be com- 
pared to that of the nutmeg orchards of Ceylon. 

Mr. Smith related to me a curious fact with regard- to the 
habits of fruit-trees in California. He uses no irrigation — 
in fact, finds no necessity for it. Seeing that the young 
trees throve without interruption, during the long summer 
drouth, he was led to examine them closely, and discovered 
that every plant makes it the first business to send down a 
straight, slender tap-root, until it reaches the stratum of 



118 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

moisture. Having once accomplished this, it feels secure, 
and devotes its energies to the visible j)ortion of its body. 
I saw a pear tree, three feet high, which in one summer had 
thrust a tap-root six feet straight down into the earth, and 
no thicker than a knitting-needle! All plants appear to 
change in this respect. 

And then comes the question — if plants change, where- 
fore not men ? And if so, how ? Or is the change only 
in the hidden roots of our character, not in the boughs and 
blossoms which we show to the world ? 

Travelling in California is very like what it was in the 
Atlantic States thirty years ago. The stage-coach, obsolete 
among us, is there a prominent institution. The various 
lines are very well managed, on the whole — the proportion 
of speed and safety being fully up to the old average. 
There are, however, three disadvantages — jolts, dust, and 
Chinamen. The amount of freighting done on all the prin- 
cipal roads speedily wears the best highways into holes and 
ruts ; the hoofs of four horses, playing in a bed of pow- 
dered earth, raise volcanic puffs of brown dust ; and unless 
you are on a hard plain, where there is a pick of tracks, 
and the wind abeam, you have your mouth jerked open as 
fast as you can shut it, and choked every time it is opened. 
Then fhe proximity of a greasy, filthy Chinaman, with his 
yellow, libidinous face and sickening smell of stale opium, 
is in itself sufficient to poison all the pleasure of the jour- 
ney. I have often felt an involuntary repulsion when seated 
near a negro in some public conveyance, at home ; but 1 
confess I would rather be wedged in between two of the 
blackest Africans than be touched bv one Chinaman. In 



NEW PICTURES FKOM CALIFOKNIA. US 

both cases, the instinct is natural and unconquerable ; but 
on the score of humanity, the former race stands immea- 
surably above the latter. 

I must j)lead guilty to a prejudice against the Chinese. 
If it were possible for human nature to be so thoroughly 
perverted that even the simplest, most general ideas of 
right and wrong should be transmitted from generation to 
generation in distorted forms, this phenomenon would be 
found among them. Of all people with whom I have 
become acquainted, they stand on the lowest moral plat- 
form — rather, indeed, on none at all : and when one once 
knows with what abominations their lives are filled, he 
sees, thenceforward, pollution in their presence. Those 
who have been in China will understand me — for many of 
the reasons of my dishke cannot be told. The Chinaman 
in California, it is true, is hardly treated ; but it were 
better if he could have been wholly excluded. He has the 
one virtue of industry, and his cheap habits of life enable 
him to get a profit out of bars deserted by the white 
miners, and soil scorned by the white farmers. In this 
way, he adds something to the production of the State : he 
also washes, cooks, and serves in various menial capacities 
— ^but I doubt whether these services atone for the moral 
contamination of his presence. I have never found it more 
difficult to exercise Christian charity, than toward these 
fungi of a rotten civilization. 

On leaving for Marysville, I avoided the three discom- 
forts of stage travel, by securing a seat behind the driver. 
Rolling out through the watered streets of Sacramento, 
between shivering rows of dusty cottonw^oods, which con 



120 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

tiiiually drop their gum and tow on the promenaders, we 
speedily reached the American Fork. The color of these 
rivers, since the discovery of gold, has changed from a 
pure crystalUne beryl to an opaque reddish-yellow, similar 
to that of j)ickled salmon. They are not only hopelessly 
polluted, but the earth brought continually down from 
above fills up the channel, changes its course, increases 
inundations, and year after year, so clogs the bed of the 
Sacramento that steamboat navigation — which is now 
feasible for one hundred and eighty miles above the city — 
threatens to be cut off altogether. 

A balmy wind blew from the north, carrying the dust 
away from us, and the journey, in my lofty seat, with a 
free outlook over the vast landscape, was very enjoyable. 
At the Six-Mile House, our horses were watered, and the 
passengers brandied : at the Twelve-Mile House, the horses 
were changed, and the passengers whiskied. Our speed 
perceptibly increased after each halt, and ere long, the far 
line of oaks marking the course of the Feather River 
became visible. First,. a pale-blue braid, tacked along the 
hem of the landscape, it gradually became an irregular 
flounce, cut into embayed scallops ; and, finally, the very 
pattern on the golden ground of Nature's dress. The eye 
rested with double delight on those superb trees, after the 
monotony of the sun-scorched plain. The river flows in a 
more contracted bed than the American Fork, whence it is 
navigable, although the body of water is not greater. 

A quiet, sleepy little place is the town of Nicolaus, on 
Feather river, twenty-five miles from Sacramento. Huge 
oaks, stretching theii^ arms over the single broad street, 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 121 

give it an air of rural repose. There is also a very com- 
fortable iiin, where we halted a few minutes, and the 
passengers beered or brandied. Owing to this fact, no 
doubt, the new horses were exceedingly spirited, and the 
four miles to Bear Creek were accomplished in twenty 
minutes. Over the hard, level road, through alternate 
belts of sunshine and shade, galloped the four fiery animals 
until we reached a spot which was to have been called 
"Oro," and would have been, if anybody could have 
been induced to settle there. A single house, on a knoll 
above the dry bed of Bear Creek, is all that is to be seen. 
This was formerly one of the many capitals of the State. 
A certain State Senator, who bought a ranche here, intro- 
duced a bill making it the seat of government, " Why," 
remarked another member, " there is no water in Bear 
Creek: how will steamboats get up to the place?" "Do 
you mean to insult me ?" exclaimed the mover of the bill, 
fiercely brandishing his cane ; " I assure the House that 
The Senator can reach the spot every day in the year, and 
I win chastise you if you deny my word !" " The Senator" 
was a large steamboat, which plied between San Francisco 
and Sacramento. Thereupon the other apologized, with- 
drew his remark, and the bill passed. The ranche was 
immediately staked into lots, and the possessor realized 
some forty or fifty thousand dollars by the sale thereof. 

Summer came. Bear Creek dried up, and the humbug 
was seen by everybody. " What did you mean by saying 
that The Senator could get here every day in the year ?'' 
exclaimed the indignant purchasers. " Why," coolly 
answered the ex-Senator, " it is true : the Senator who 

6 



122 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

contradicted me can get here at any time — what is to 
hinder him ? I never said a steamboat could do it !'' 
Having thus reconciled the swindle to his conscience, the 
gentleman prudently retired from California. This w^as 
told me by two fellow-passengers, while passing the spot. 

As it drew toward noon, the breeze fell, and the sun 
beat fiercely upon our heads. The temperature was at 
least 90° in the shade — which, for the 19th of September, 
was a fair degree of heat ; though, as the driver said : 
" This here ain't a circumstance to the hot days in June." 
" How hot was it then ?" I asked. " Why," said he, " 120«» 
in the shade.'' " Impossible !" " Well, it was^ and more'n 
that. Lord ! how the horses used to drop dead along this 
road ! The leaves jist curled up in the heat, and the trees 
looked as they was ready to take fire. The wind blowed 
from the south, and you'd ha' thought a piece of hot sheet 
iron was held before your face. Why, the crows couldn't 
fly, but jist sot on the branches ; and every now an then 
one would tumble off, dead as a hammer." " That's so !" 
said one of the passengers ; " it was the awfuUest heat I 
ever see. The ground burnt through your boots, and the 
sky w^as sort o' hazy, like the world was nigh bustin' into 
a blaze." These accounts were afterwards corroborated 
by others. The temperature must have equalled that of 
the Sahara — yet the effect upon human life seems not to 
have been so fatal as some of our "heated terms" on the 
Atlantic Coast. 

The Sacramento Buttes— a curious isolated group of hills, 
which form a landmark for near a hundred miles up and 
down the valley — now rose blue and beautiful befoie us, 



KEW PICTUKES FROM CALIFOEXIA. 123 

their craggy sides tinted with rose-color in the sunshine. 
From the topmost peak, which is about twelve hundred 
feet above the level of the valley, there is a wonderful 
panorama, in clear weather. The view extends from 
Monte Diablo in the south to the solitary Alpine cone of 
Shasta in the north, a distance of more than two hundred 
miles. Lovely little dells lie between the bases of the 
group ; and the citizens of Marysville, only eight miles 
distant, are beginning to perceive the prudence of securing 
residences in a spot which combines so many natural 
advantages. Here, again, there is the basis for another 
Arcadian day-dream. 

As we approached the Yuba Kiver, the country became 
rolling, the road a fathomless bed of dust — yet this was 
disregarded, in the contemplation of the superb trees, 
studded with growths of raisletoe, and hung with a gor- 
geous drapery of wild grape-vines. Where the land had 
been cleared, there were fields of Indian corn which sur- 
passed anything I had ever seen. The average height of 
the stalks was not less than fifteen feet, and the size and 
number of the ears was in proportion. The brick blocks of 
Marysville now appeared in front, on the west bank of the 
Yuba, which we crossed by a lofty and substantial bridge. 

Marysville is the best-built town of its size in California. 
At the head of navigation on Feather River, it occupies 
the same situation with regard to the northern mines that 
Stockton does to the southern, while the opening of Honey 
Lake and Pitt River valleys insure for it a more prosperous 
future. Its founder, Mr. Fall, who is still the largest pro- 
prietor, is one of the few men who made a lucky hit at the 



124 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

start, and kept it. He was absent on a trip to Carson 
Yalley at the time of my visit, and I regretted that I did 
not see his garden, which is one of the most beautiful in the 
State. Marysville has ah-eady a population of eight thou- 
sand. It is laid out in regular squares, the houses being 
mostly of brick, flat-roofed, and two stories high. The 
prevailing red tint is not agreeable to the eye ; but this 
will probably disappear in the course of time. The situa- 
tion of the town is very beautiful, the Yuba, in spite of its 
orange tint, being a lovely stream, not yet denuded of its 
timber, through the openings in which you see the far 
peaks of the Sierra Nevada. 

My performances were held in the theatre, which was 
then A^acant. Considering the fact that five or six hundred 
of the principal citizens were then in Sacramento, attend- 
ing the State Fair, the attendance was very good, and I 
was gratified at seeing, in the gallery, quite a number of 
flannel-shirted miners. One circumstance puzzled me at 
first. After I had been discoursing for half an hour, 
several gentlemen got up and left. Presently, another 
party rose and retired in a body. Well, thought I, they 
are certainly bored: it is not the entertainment they 
expected : they have been accustomed to negro minstrels, 
and anything of a serious nature is tiresome to them. 
But, to my surprise, they all returned in five minutes 
afterwards, and sat quietly until the close. On stating this 
to a friend, he laughed. " Why," said he, " didn't you 
guess it ? They only went out for a drinh V^ I after- 
ward got accustomed to this practice, as it happened 
almost every night. The innocence with which it was 



NEW PICTURES EKOM CALIFOENIA. 125 

done amused me, although the interruption was annoying. 
I had serious thoughts of engaging waiters, in felt slippers, 
to attend, take orders, and bring to each thirsty auditor 
the drink he desired. In other respects, the Marysville 
audience was very agreeable — decidedly more warm and 
genial than in San Francisco, with an equally intelligent 
attention. 



6. — ^The IsTorthern" Mines. 

I HAD made an engagement with a literary society in the 
town of ISTevada, high up in the mountains, for the next 
evening ; and it was therefore necessary to take a stage 
which left Marysville at three in the morning. The driver 
cruelly picked us up first of all, and then went around the 
town, in the cold morning starlight, calling for the other 
passengers. Two or three miners and traders and a Chi- 
nese woman entered — the latter surrounded with a hideous, 
jabbering crowd of countrymen, who yelled after her 
adieux which sounded more like curses. Then we drove 
off upon the dark plain, silent and uncommunicative for the 
first two hours. The dawn came as we were passing 
through the oak openings at the base of the foot-hills, and 
revealed to us the bearded faces and stalwart forms oppo* 
site, and the squat yellow figure on the middle seat, with 
her lantern, tea-kettle, paper-box, and various other arti- 
cles, tied separately in dirty handkerchiefs. She looked 
around with a grin, cackled a few unknown words, and 
then proceeded to roll a cigar, strike fire, and smoke. 



]26 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

Noticing my wife, she made a second cigar, and offered it 
to her. As this was declined, she took a small black cake 
in her harpy talons, and made a second attempt to be 
friendly. To refuse, without an open manifestation of dis- 
gust, was all that was possible. 

By sunrise, we were toiling up and down a rough, side- 
ling road, on the west bank of the Yuba. I looked with 
great interest for the first signs of gold-washing, and they 
were soon visible in the bare, yellow, devastated river-bed 
below us. Soon after entering the hills we reached Long 
Bar, a mining-camp which extends for some distance along 
the river. Wooden flumes, raised on tall tressels, brought 
water from some reservoir above to the diggings, where it 
fell into the sluices in w^hich the earth is washed. The 
absence of any appearance of permanent settlement — the 
rough board shanties in which the miners live — did not give 
evidence of a great yield of gold. In fact, they were 
washing the same bars over for perhaps the fifth or sixth 
time. Every year some new dejDosit is struck, besides 
what is continually brought down by the winter floods ; 
but the chances of great strikes are gradually lessened. 
These operations are now carried on by small companies 
of miners : individual labor, which was the rule in 1849, 
has almost entirely ceased. 

The miners were just turning out of their bunks, and tlie 
doors of their shanties being open, enabled us to see 
how rude and simple are their habits of life. They lived, 
two or three in a hut, doing their own cooking and house- 
keeping. Some were washing their eyes, and combing 
their matted hair : some kindling fires in little stone ovens • 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORXIA. 127 

others taking a morning draught at the '-'• Hotel de la 
France!'^'' and some few singing songs in the patois of the 
Canadian voyageurs. Rough, ruddy fellows they were, 
with any amount of animal health and animal appetites, 
AVhere culture is engrafted on such a physical stock, the 
fruit is — Men. 

Crossing the Yuba by a species of floating bridge, we 
climbed the opposite bank, and after winding among the 
red, dry-baked hills for a mile or two, reached Timbuctoo 
— a place which has recently grown into notice through the 
hydraulic mining carried on there. It lies in a narrow glen, 
down the bottom of which poured a stream of yellow bat- 
ter, scarcely to be recognized as water after it has been 
employed in mining. The village consists of a single street, 
well-built, though wooden, and lively and cheerful to look 
upon. We only stopped to leave the mails, and then drove 
on, gradually ascending, to the Empire Ranche, two miles 
further, where breakfast awaited us. Fine oak-trees, a 
large barn and stabling, a peach-orchard, vineyard, and 
melon patch, were the first signs of permanent settlement 
we had seen since entering' the hills. The breakfast was 
abundant and good, and there was a marked increase of 
social feeling among the passengers, afterwards. 

Beyond this, the hills, which had been terribly denuded 
of timber, retained their original forests. The road crossed 
several spurs, and then entered a long, shallow canon, up 
which we toiled in heat and dust. Blue mountain-ranges 
gleamed afar, through the gaps in the trees ; the clayey 
water rushed overhead through the flumes, or fell in turbid 
cascades down the side of the hill, and huge freight teams, 



128 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

drawn by long strings of mules, occasionally blocked our 
way. It was a singular mixture of savage and civilized 
I^ature. From the toj) of the canon we descended three 
or four miles into Penn's Yalley, a rich, circular tract of 
bottom land, studded with magnificent trees, and already 
mapped into farms, and fenced. Two miles beyond this is 
Rough-and-Ready, a mining camp in a very rich ravine. 
It had recently been destroyed by fire : half of it consisted 
of new, uninhabited shanties, and the other half of black- 
ened embers. 

Another hour, over a rolling, well-timbered region, two 
thousand feet above the sea, and crossing the brow of the hill, 
we saw a large town below us. Blocks of brick buildings, 
church spires, suburban cottages and gardens, gave it quite 
an imposing air — but war and tempest seemed to have 
passed over the surrounding landscape. The hills were 
stripped of wood, except here and there a single pine, which 
stood like a monumental obelisk amid the stump head-stones 
of its departed brethren : the bed of the valley was torn 
into great holes and furrows ; and wherever the eye turned, 
it met with glaring piles of red earth, like redoubts thrown 
up in haste and then deserted. This was Grass Yalley, 
famous in the annals of mining : and such are the ravages 
which the search for gold works on the fair face of Nature. 

Descending into the town, we found macadamized and 
watered streets, and plank sidewalks, respectable hotels, a 
theatre, express offices, and all other signs of a high civili- 
zation. Here "^he young woman called John (every Chi- 
naman, male or female, is called " John" in California) 
left us. Mails were delivered, and we bowled along over 



NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFOKNIA. 129 

a broad turnpike to Nevada, four miles farther. The 
approach to the town, along the steep bank of a ravine, is 
very striking. The houses rise along the opposite bank, on 
both sides of a lateral ravine, sending out irregular arms 
up the hills, to the foot of a conical peak, called the Sugar 
Loaf, which overlooks it. But for the red brick, I should 
compare it to some Syrian city. Around it there is a bar- 
ren, desolated space, full of yawning gaps, and piles of 
naked earth, with here and there a young garden inter- 
posed ; and over all — like a raised rim to the basin in which 
it lies — a forest of pines. The place is a little larger than 
Grass Valley, having about four thousand inhabitants. 

We found comfortable quarters in Mr. Lancaster's fire- 
proof tavern. The afternoon was devoted principally to 
repose, as my day's work had to be done in the evening. 
An audience of more than three hundred assembled in the 
theatre, which, as the tickets cost a dollar, was equivalent 
to double the number at home. With the exception of San 
Francisco, the attendance was the best I found in Califor- 
nia. Li character, the people resembled the communities 
of the Western States — ^genial, impulsive, quick, anticipative 
even. Professional talkers wiU understand how pleasant is 
an audience of this character. 

Having expressed a great desire to get a sight of the 
central chain of the Sierra Nevada, Mr. Rolfe proposed an 
excursion along the main ridge, which runs parallel with 
the South Fork of the Yuba, up to the Truckee Pass, We 
started early the following afternoon, designing to reach a 
point some eight or ten miles distant, whence the highest 
peaks of the northern Sierra could be seen. Behind Nevada, 

6^ 



130 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

an admirable road, cut along the side of the hill, leads off 
in a north-eastern direction for two miles, gradually mount- 
ing to the summit of the ridge. The unbroken, primitive 
forest then received us. Pillars two hundred feet high and 
six feet in diameter, straight as a lance, and taj^ering as 
gracefully as the shaft of the areca palm, rose on all sides : 
far above mingled the tufted boughs, admitting only chance 
beams of sunshine, which struck in slanting lines of gold 
through the fragrant, shadowy air. The road was a rough, 
rutty, fathomless bed of dust, but elsewhere the dry earth 
was hidden under a carpet of yellow ferns. Where the 
ridge fell off on either side, the summits of the trees below 
formed an impervious canopy which shut out the distant 
view. We drove for several miles through the aisles of 
this grand natural cathedral, before which the pillared hall 
of Karnak and the aspiring arches of the minster of Cologne 
sink into nothingness. No Doric column could surpass in 
beauty of proportion those stupendous shafts. They are 
the demigods of the vegetable world. 

Here and there we saw a small clearing, or a saw-mill — 
the blasphemous dragon which lays waste these sacred soli- 
tudes — or a tavern, patronized by the teamsters who tra- 
verse this road on their way to the upper diggings, near 
the source of the Yuba. Still further on, we were surprised 
by a fierce roaring sound, and the sight of scarlet gleams 
of fire, flashing out of the shades. The giant trunks stood 
scornfully in the midst of it, secure in their bulk, but the 
underwood and the dead boughs which had fallen snapped 
and crackled, as the flames leaped upon them. We drove 
through the midst of it, and, on a ferny knoll beyond, saw 



NEW PICTUliES FROM CALIFORNIA. 131 

whence it originated. A company of Digger Indians, half- 
naked, lay upon the ground. They had been burning a 
dead body, and, accordmg to their custom, had plastered 
their hair and cheeks with a mixture of ]3itch and the fat 
rendered out of the dear departed, as a token of sorrow. 
During the performance of this ceremony, their howlmgs 
and lamentations are frightful. Those Avhom we saw had 
completed their task, and had an air of stupid satisfaction, 
resulting from the consciousness of having done their duty. 
The dust raised by our wheels was so fine, penetrating, 
and suffocating, that the excursion became a torture rather 
than a pleasure. "We, therefore, relinquished the idea of 
going on to Gold Hill — a picturesque mining-camp on a 
terrace overhanging the river — and halted at a point where 
the ridge turns sharply to the souths allowing a wide out- 
look to the north and east. The view was vast in extent, 
grand and savage in character, yet monotonous in form, 
lacking the usual abruptness and picturesqueness of moun- 
tain scenery. Directly below us yawned the valley of the 
South Fork, at least two thousand feet deep. Opposite, 
rose a ridge similar to that on which we stood, dividing the 
South and Middle Forks — its summit presenting an almost 
even line, covered with dark forests. Over this a few 
higher peaks lifted themselves, in the distance ; and still 
further, Pilot Knob and the other summits of the Sierra, 
beyond Downieville. Eastward the deep gorge vanished 
between vapory mountain-walls, over which towered the 
topmost heights between us and the Great Basin of Utah. 
The highest peaks were about ten thousand feet above the 
sea-level ; yet, greatly to our disappointment, no snow was 



132 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

to be seen. The unusual heat of the summer had denuded 
even the loftiest summits, and they stood bare and broken, 
of a pale violet color, like the dolomite mountains of South- 
ern Tyrol. 

Returning along the same track, we emerged from the 
forest just at sunset, and halted, involuntarily, at the won- 
derful beauty of the scene before us. The deep, trough- 
like glen down which our road lay, slept in shadow : at its 
mouth Nevada, with her encircling hills, burned in a flush 
of imperial purple light ; while the mountains of the Coast 
Range, seventy miles away, were painted in rose-color, 
transparent against the sunset. I know of but one pencil 
capable of reproducing this magic illumination. In Spain, 
and Sicily, and Syria, I have never seen a lovelier eflect of 
color. For a full half-hour the glow lingered, as if reluc- 
tant to fade away and leave to us the unlovely reality of 
shanties, shabby houses, heaps of dirt, and riddled and per- 
forated hills. 

While in Sacramento, I had received an invitation to 
spend an evening in Timbuctoo, and on my way to Nevada, 
completed the arrangements for visiting that unknown and 
mysterious place. It involved a journey of twenty miles 
over the road I had already travelled, and a return to Ne- 
vada on the following day ; but as Timbuctoo is said to be 
the grandest example of hydraulic mining in California, I 
did not grudge the extra travel. Early on Monday morn- 
ning we took saddle-horse-s, my companion being ambitious 
to gain experience in an art new to her. We had a pair of 
spirited animals — almost too much so, in fact, for such a 
sultry, stifling day — and got over the four miles to Grass 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 133 

Valley in short order. Thence to Rough-and-Ready and 
Penn's Valley, all went well ; but as the sun mounted 
higher, and the dust rose, and the unaccustomed arm wea- 
ried of the check-rein, the inspiration of the ride flagged, 
and never was haven more welcome than the Empire 
Ranche, two miles from Timbuctoo. 

In the afternoon, Mr. Carpenter, to whom I was indebtea 
for the opportunity of visiting the place, accompanied me 
to view the mining operations. A ridge about five hundred 
feet in height divides the glen in which the town lies from 
the Yuba River, and the whole of this ridge from the sum- 
mit down to the bed-rock, contains gold. At first the wash- 
ings were confined to the bottom of the valley, and to 
Rose's Bar, on the Yuba. After the richest deposits were 
exhausted, short drifts were carried into the hills at their 
base, and it was finally ascertained that if any plan could 
be devised to curtail the expense of labor, the entire hill 
might be profitably washed down. In this manner origin- 
ated what is called hydraulic mining — a form of working, 
which, I believe, is not known in any other part of the 
world. 

The undertakings lor the purpose of procuring a steady 
supply of water through the dry seasons, commenced as 
early as 1850. It was found that the deposits of gold were 
not only on the river-bars, but that scarcely a valley, or 
glen, or dip among the hills, throughout the whole extent 
of the gold region, was barren of the precious metal. That 
these might be worked, the rivers were tapped high up in 
the mountains, and ditches carried along the intervening 
ridges, raised on gigantic flumes wherever a depression 



134 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

occurred, from distances varying from fifteen to forty miles. 
Here was immediately a new field for enterprise. Water 
companies were formed for the construction of these vast 
works, and the ditches led so as to supply the greatest num- 
ber of mining localities. The water is furnished at so much 
per inch — generally at very exorbitant rates — and is there- 
fore a surer source of profit than mining itself. Nothing 
seemed to me more remarkable, in travelling through the 
gold region, than the grand scale on which these operations 
are conducted. 

The ditch which supplies Timbuctoo is thirty-five miles 
long, and was constructed at a cost of $600,000. Yet, on 
this capital it yields an annual dividend of at least forty per 
cent. Some ditches are still more profitable than this, and 
it may be said that none of them has failed to j)ay hand- 
somely, except through mismanagement. One of the com- 
panies at Timbuctoo uses water to the value of |100 every 
day. Near the end of the ditch there is a reservoir, into 
which the stream is turned at night, in order to create a 
reserve for any emergency. 

Following a line of fluming along the top of the ridge, 
we presently came to a great gulf, or gap, eaten out of the 
southern side of the hill. A wall of bare earth, more than 
a hundred feet high, yawned below our feet, and two 
streams of water, pouring over the edge, thundered upoa 
the loose soil below, which was still further broken up by 
jets from hose which the workmen held. After the water 
had become thoroughly commingled with earth, it was 
again gathered into a stream and conducted into a long 
sluice, in the -bottom of which grooves of quicksilver 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 135 

caught the scattered grains of gold. ISTothing could be 
more simple than the process. The water of itself ate chan- 
nels into the lofty wall of earth, and then pulverized and 
dissolved the dirt it had brought down. Commencing at 
the base of the hill, the soil has thus been gradually eaten 
away to the depth of two hundred yards, down to the bed- 
rock, leaving a face exposed, in some places 150 feet in per- 
pendicular height. The whole of the immense mass of 
earth which has been displaced has passed through the 
sluice, deposited its gold, and been carried down by the 
waste water to clog the currents of the Yuba, the Feather, 
and the Sacramento. 

On the northern side, a similar process was in operation, 
and the two excavations had approached each other so 
nearly, that a few months only were requisite to break the 
back of the hill. Crossing the narrow bridge between, I 
approached the end of the ridge, and found myself on the 
edge of a third, and still grander work ! Thousands on 
thousands of tons had been removed, leaving an immense 
semicircular cavity, with a face nearly 150 feet in height. 
From the summit, five streams fell in perpendicular lines 
of spray, tramj)ling and boiling in cauldrons of muddy foam 
as they mingled with the loose dirt at the bottom. While 
I gazed, a mass of earth, weighing, at least, five tons, de- 
tached itself from the top, between the channels cut by two 
of those streams, and fell with a thundering, crash, which 
made the hill tremble to its base. Another and another 
slide succeeded, while the pigmies below, as if rejoicing in 
the ruin, sprang upon them with six-inch jets from the hose- 
serpents which coiled around the bank, and reduced the 



136 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

fragments to dust. Beyond this scene of chaos, the water 
gathered again, and through the straight sluice — ^like a giant 
bleeding to death from a single vein — the mountain washed 
itself away. 

It seemed a work of the Titans. When I saw what the 

original extent of the hill had been ^how certamly the 

whole ridge, which rose so defiant, as if 'secure of enduring 
until the end of the world, was doomed to disappear — how 
the very aspect of Nature would be in time transformed by 
such simple agents as this trough of water, and those three 
flannel-shirted creatures with their hose — I acknowledged 
that there might be a grandeur in gold-mining beyond that 
of the building of the Pyramids. 

Some fascination must be connected with this labor, or 
men would not trifle so recklessly with the forces they 
attack. Scarcely a week passed without some report of 
workmen being buried under the falling masses of earth. 
Though continually warned — though familiar with the dan- 
ger from long experience — they become so absorbed in the 
work of undermining the slippery bluffs, that they gradually 
approach nearer and nearer; the roar of the water drowns 
the threatening hiss of the relaxing soil — down comes the 
avalanche, and, if the man's foot is not as quick as his eye, 
he is instantly crushed out of existence. In descending to 
the village, I followed two miners, taking a path which led 
downward, on the top of a narrow wall, left standing be- 
tween the two excavations on the southern side. In some 
places, the top was not more than six feet wide, and the 
appearance of the loose, gravelly soil, dropping straight 
down a hundred feet on either hand, threatening to give 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 137 

way beneath my weight, was not calculated to insph-e con- 
fidence. Seven days afterward, the enth-e mass fell (fortu- 
nately in the night), with a crash that jarred the earth for 
a mile around. 

In Mr. Carpenter's office, I found a choice collection of 
standard works — ^Ruskin, Coleridge, Emerson, Goethe, Mrs. 
Somerville, and others, whom one would not expect to find 
in the midst of such barren material toil. I also made the 
acquaintance of a miner — a hired laborer — who had sent 
all the way to Boston for a copy of Tennyson's " Idyls," 
knew "In Memoriam" by heart, and was an enthusiastic 
admirer of Mrs. Browning. One of my first visitors, on 
reaching San Francisco, was an old Oregon farmer, who 
called to know whether I had ever seen the Brownings — 
what was their personal appearance — what sort of a man 
was Tennyson, also Longfellow, Whittier, and various 
other poets. Yerily, no true poet need despair — 

" His words are driven 
Like flower-seeds by the far winds sown, 
"Where'er, beneath the sky of heaven, 
The birds of Fame have flown" — 

and, also, where such birds have not flown. If I knew, as 
Tennyson does, that a poem of mine made an imprisoned 
sailor, in the long Arctic night, shed tears, I would smile 
upon the critic who demonstrated, by the neatest process 
of logic, that there was no veritable afflatus to be found 
in me. 

The next day we returned to ISTevada — my companion, 
much less enthusiastic than before, taking the stage, while 



138 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

I galloped back with a led horse attached to my right arm. 
The day was overcast, with a presentiment of ill in the 
atmosphere. It was that anxious, oppressed, congested 
feeling, which Nature often experiences before a rain, when 
life looks cheerless, and hope dies in the soul of man. 
Anywhere else I should have laid my hand on The Book, 
and affirmed that rain would come — and even here, rain 
did come. I did not believe my ears, when I heard the 
pattering in the night — I could scarcely believe my eyes, 
when I looked abroad in the morning, and saw the dust 
laid, the trees washed and glittering, and the sky as clear 
and tranquil a blue as — no matter whose eye. We were 
to go to I^orth San Juan, an enterprising little place on 
the Middle Yuba, ten miles off; and, in spite of bruised 
bones, there was no thought of fatigue. With the help of 
that exquisite air, we could have climbed Chimborazo. 

This time, however, it was a light, open buggy and a 
capital black horse. I have rarely seen better or more 
intelligent horses than there are in California. Probably 
the long journey across the Plains sifted the stock, the 
poorer specimens dropping by the way, as many humans 
do, blood and character holding out to the end. Be this 
as it may, I made the acquaintance of no horse there to 
whom I would not willingly have done a personal favor. 
Merrily we rattled up the planked street of Nevada, around 
the base of the Sugar Loaf, past the mouths of mining 
drifts, and the muddy tails of sluices, and into a rolling 
upland region, about half stripped of its timber, where 
every little glen or hollow w^as turned u|)side down by the 
miners. After a drive of three or four miles, the blueness 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 139 

of tlie air disclosed a gulf in front, and we prepared for a 
descent to the bed of the South Yuba. 

It was a more difficult undertaking than we were aware 
of. The road plunged down the steep at a pitch fright- 
ful to behold, turning and • winding among the ledges in 
such a manner that one portion of it often overhung 
another. Broad folds of shade were flung into the gulf 
from the summits far above, but the opposite side, ascend- 
ing even more abruptly, lay with its pines and large-leaved 
oaks, sparkling, in the clearest sunlight. Our horse was 
equal to the emergency. Planting himself firmly on his 
fore-feet, with erect, attentive ears, he let us carefully, step 
by step, down the perilous slopes. With strong harness, 
there is really no danger, and one speedily gets accustomed 
to such experiences. 

The northern bank, as beautifully diversified with pictur- 
esque knolls and glens as the rapidity of the descent would 
allow, confronted us with an unbroken climb of a mile and 
a half. Luckily we met no down-coming team on the way, 
for there was no chance of passing. At the summit, where 
there is a little mining-camp called Montezuma, we again 
entered on that rolling platform, which, like the fjelds of 
Norway, forms the prominent feature of this part of the 
Sierra Nevada — the beds of the rivers lying at an average 
depth of two thousand feet below the level of the inter- 
vening regions. Looking eastward, we beheld a single 
peak of the great central chain, with a gleaming snow-field 
on its northern side. Montezuma has a tavern, two stores, 
and a cluster of primitive habitations. The genus " loafer" 
is also found — no country, in fact, is so new that it does 



140 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

not flourish there. Far and wide the country is covered 
with giant pines, and not a day passes but some of them 
fall. They are visibly thinning, and in a few years more, 
this district will be scorched and desolate. It is true 
young trees are starting up everywhere, but it will be 
centuries before they attain the majesty of the present 
forests. 

Pursuing our winding way for three miles more through 
the woods, we saw at last the dark-blue walls of the 
Middle Yuba rise before us, and began to look out for San 
Juan. First we came to Sebastapol (!), then to some other 
incipient village, and finally to our destination. North San 
Juan is a small, compact place, lying in a shallow dip 
among the hills. Its inhabitants prosecute both drift and 
hydraulic mining, with equal energy and success. As at 
Timbuctoo, the whole mass of the hill between the town 
and the river is gold-bearing, and enormous cavities have 
been washed out of it. The water descends from the flumes 
in tubes of galvanized iron, to which canvas hose-pipes, 
six inches in diameter, are attached, and the force of the 
jets which play against the walls of earth is really terrific. 
The dirt, I was informed, yields but a moderate profit at 
present, but grows richer as it approaches the bed-rock. 
As each company has enough material to last for years, the 
ultimate result of their operations is sure to be very pro- 
fitable. In the course of time, the very ground on which 
the village stands will be washed away. We passed some 
pleasant cottages and gardens which must be moved in 
two or three years. The only rights in the gold region 
are those of miners. The only inviolable property is a 



NEW PICT LIKES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 141 

"claim." Houses must fall, fields be ravaged, improve- 
ments of all sorts swept away, if the miner sees fit — there 
is no help for it. 

The next morning, we drove back to Nevada betimes, 
in order to reach Grass Valley before evening. Before 
taking leave of the j)leasant little to^vn, where we had 
spent three delightful days, I must not omit to mention 
our descent into the Nebraska Mine, on the northern side 
of Manzanita Hill. This is as good an example of success- 
ful drift mining as can readily be found, and gave me a 
new insight into the character of the gold deposits. All 
the speculations of the early miners were wholly at fault, 
and it is only within the last four or five years that any- 
thing like a rational system has been introduced — that is, 
so far as so uncertain a business admits of a system. 
Hydraulic mining, as I have before stated, is carried on in 
those localities where gold is diffused through the soil; 
but drift mining seeks the " leads'' — mostly the subterra- 
nean beds of pre-Adamite rivers — where it is confined 
within narrow channels, offering a more contracted but 
far richer field. 

These ancient river-beds are a singular feature of the 
geology of the Sierra Nevada. They are found at a 
height of two thousand feet above the sea, or more, often 
cutting at right angles through the present axis of the 
hills, jumping over valleys and re-appearing in the heights 
opposite. One of them, called the "Blue Lead," cele- 
brated for its richness, has been thus traced for more than 
a hundred miles. The breadth of the channels varies 
greatly, but they are always very distinctly marked by the 



142 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

bluff banks of earth, on each side of the sandy bed. 
Their foundation is the primitive granite — upon which, 
and in the holes and pockets whereof, the gold is most 
abundant. The usual way of mining is, to sink a shaft to 
the bed-rock, and then send out lateral drifts in search of 
the buried river. The Nebraska Company at Nevada has 
been fortunate enough to strike a channel several hundred 
feet wide, and extending for some distance diagonally 
through the hill. Until this lead was struck, the expenses 
were very great, and a considerable capital was sunk ; but 
now the yield averages ten thousand dollars per week, at 
least three-fourths of which is clear profit. 

One of the proprietors, who accompanied us, was kind 
enough to arrange matters so that we should get a most 
satisfactory view of the mine. After having been arrayed, 
in the office, in enormous India-rubber boots, corduroy 
jackets, and sou'-westers, without distinction of sex, we 
repaired to the engine-house, where the sands of the lost 
Pactolus are drawn up again to the sunshine, after the 
lapse of perhaps five hundred thousand years. Here, my 
Eurydice was placed in a little box, from which the dirt 
had just been emptied, packed in the smallest coil to avoid 
the danger of striking the roof on the way down, and, 
at the ringing of a bell, was whisked from my eyes and 
swallowed up in the darkness. I w^as obliged to wait until 
the next box came up, when, like Orpheus, I followed 
her to the shades. A swift descent of six hundred feet 
brought me to the bed-rock, where I found those who had 
gone before, standing in a passage only four or five feet high, 
candles in their hands, and their feet in a pool of water. 



NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFORNIA. 143 

Square shafts, carefully boxed in with strong timbers, 
branched off before us through the heart of the hill. Along 
the bottom of each was a tram-way, and at intervals of five 
minutes, cars laden with gray river-sand were rolled up, 
hitched to the rope, and speedily drawn to the surface 
Following our conductor, we traced some of these shafts 
to the end, where workmen were busy excavating the close 
packed sand, and filling the cars. The company intend 
running their drifts to the end of their claim, when they 
will commence working back toward the beginning, clean- 
ing out the channel as they go. Probably, three or four 
years will be required to complete the task, and if they 
are not very unreasonable in their expectations, they may 
retire from business by that time. We sat down for half 
an hour, with the unstable, sandy ceiling impending over 
our heads, and watched the workmen. They used no 
other implements than the pick and shovel, and the only 
difficulty connected with their labor was the impossibility 
of standing upright. The depth of the sand varied from 
three to six feet, but the grains of gold were scantily distri- 
buted through the upper layers. In one place, where the 
bed-rock was exposed, we saw distinctly the thick deposits 
of minute shining scales, in situ. 

The air was very close and disagreeable, and the unre- 
lieved stooping posture so tiresome, that we were not 
sorry when the guide, having scraped up a panful of the 
bottom sand, conducted us by watery ways, to the entrance 
shaft, and restored us to daylight. The sand, on reaching 
the surface, is tilted down an opening in the floor, and is 
instantly played upon by huge jets of water, which sweep 



144 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

it into a long sluice. Here it is still further agitated by 
means of riffles across the bottom, and the gold is caught 
in grooves filled with quicksilver. Every week, the 
amalgam thus produced is taken out and assayed. The 
tailings of these sluices are frequently corraled (a Califor- 
nia term for " herded" or " collected"), and run through a 
second sluice, or turned into some natural ravine, which is 
washed out twice a year. In spite of this, a considerable 
percentage of the gold, no doubt, escapes. There is a 
gentleman in Nevada, who owns a little gully, through 
which runs the waste of a drift on the hill above. He had 
the sagacity to put down a sluice and insert quicksilver, 
thinking sufficient gold might be left in the sand to pay for 
the experiment ; and his net profits, from this source, 
amount to fifteen thousand dollars a year. 

The pan of dirt brought up with us, having been skil- 
fully washed in the old-fashioned way, produced a heap of 
mustard-seed grains, to the value of five or six dollars, 
which was courteously presented to my wife as a souvenir 
of her visit. Those who predict the speedy failure of the 
gold of California, do not know what wonderful subterra- 
nean store-houses of the precious metal still lie untouched. 
The river-bars were but as windfalls from the tree. 



7. — ^Travelling in the Sierea Nevada. 

San Juan was the northern limit of our mountain wan- 
derings. I then turned southward — having so disposed of 
my time, that a fortnighf would be devoted to the mining 



NEW riCTUEES FKOM CALIFORNIA. 145 

regions between the Yuba and tlie Stanislaus. Leaving 
Nevada on Thursday afternoon, we drove over to Grass 

Valley, where Mr. E had arranged for my discourse in 

the theatre that evening. I found that the announcement 
had been made with more zeal than modesty. When that 
gentleman asked me, before starting on his journey of pre- 
liminaries : " What shall I put on the posters in addition 
to your name ?" I earnestly charged him to put nothing 
at all. " If the subject of the lecture will not attract audi- 
tors, I must do without them ; and I shall never be guilty 
of blowing my own trumpet." I leave the reader to ima- 
gine my feelings, when, on entering Grass Yalley, the 
colossal words, " The world-renowned traveller and his- 
torian ! ! !" stared at me from every blank wall. And so it 
was wherever I went. My agent's mdiscreet zeal made me 
appear, to the public, not only as a monstrous self-glorifier, 
but also as arrogating to myself a title to which I had no 
claim. " The printers would have it so," was his meek 
excuse, 

Grass Yalley and Nevada, being only four miles apart, 
and very nearly of the same size and importance, are, of 
course, deadly rivals. Curiously enough, this fact was the 
occasion of some pecuniary detriment to myself. The cir- 
cumstance was, at the same time, laughable and vexatious. 
In the evening, shortly before the appointed hour, a gen- 
tleman approached me with a mysterious air, and, after 
some beating about an invisible bush, finally asked, plumply : 
" Are you going to lecture to-night for the benefit of the 
Nevada people ?" " What do you mean ?" I exclaimed, in 
great astonishment. " Why," said he, " it is reported that 



146 AT HO:itE AND ABROAD. 

the Society in Nevada lias engaged you to come here, as 
if on your own account, so that we sha'n't know anything 
about it, and they are to have the profits!" "What do 
you take me for ?" I asked, indignant at such a mean sus- 
picion ; "but even if 7" were capable of it, the Nevada peo- 
ple are above such trickery." " Well," said he, " I will 
hurry out and correct the impression, as far as possible • 
for it is going to prevent scores of people from coming to 
hear you." 

My next point was Forest Hill, a new mining camp, 
situated on the left ridge between the North and Middle 
Forks of the American River. The distance was more than 
thirty miles, over a very wild and broken portion of the 
mountains, and I was obliged to hire a two-horse buggy 
and driver, at an expense of |35 for the trip. A miner 
from Michigan Bar, returning homeward, also joined us, 
and his knowledge of the road proved indisjpensable. We 
took an eastward course on leaving Grass Valley, crossing 
bleak, disforested hills, where the dust was frightfully deep 
and dry ; then, approaching Buena Vista Ranche, plunged 
by degrees into the woods, where the air was cool and bal- 
samic, and the burnt ground was hidden jmder a golden 
plumage of ferns. The road at last dropped into a linked 
succession of dells, which enchanted us with their beauty. 
The giant pillars of the forest rose on all sides, but here and 
there the pines fell back, leaving grassy knolls dotted with 
clumps of oak, or green meadows fringed with laurel and 
buckeye, or tangled masses of shrubbery and vines. There 
were also cottages and gardens, secluded in these Happy 
Valleys, where, one sighed to think, care, and pain, and 



NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFOKNIA. 147 

sorrow, come as readily as to the bleakest moor or the 
rudest sea-shore. 

For four or five miles we drove merrily onward through 
that Arcadian realm. The blue sky shone overhead, the 
pines sang in the morning wind, the distant mountains 
veiled themselves in softer purple, and the exquisite odors 
of bay and pine, and dry, aromatic herbs gave sweetness to 
the air. Then the scene became wilder, a rugged canon 
received us — a gulf opened in front — broken, wooded steeps 
rose opposite, and we commenced the descent to Bear 
Creek, the first of the valleys to be crossed. It was, how- 
ever, an easy task, compared with that of the South Yuba. 
The road was stony and sideling, to be sure, but not more 
than half a mile in descent. 

At the bottom was a bridge — useless in the dry season — 
with a toll of a dollar and a half at the further end. A 
ruddy, bustling woman, who kept the toll-house and accom- 
panying bar-room, received us with great cordiality. Hear- 
ing the driver address me by name, she exclaimed : " Why, 
are you Mr. Taylor ? Excuse me for not knowing you ! 
And that is your wife, I suppose — how do you do, Mrs. 
Taylor ? Won't you have a bunch of grapes ?" Into the 
house she popped, and out again, with a fine cluster of 
black Hamburgs. " ]N'ow then," she continued, "-since we 
know one another, you must come and see me often." 
" With pleasure," said I ; " and you must return the visit, 
though it's rather a long way." " Oh, I don't mind that," 
she rejoined ; " but you must stop longer the next time you 
come by" — which I readily promised. Really, thought I, 
as we drove away, this is fame to some purpose. How 



148 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

friendly this woman became, as soon as she found out who 
I was ! How much she must admire my writings ! What 
a sublime contempt she has for time and space— inviting us 
to come over often^ and visit her ! My complacent reflec- 
tions were interrupted by a chuckle from the driver. 
" Well," said he, " the old lady's rather took in. She 
thinks you're Mr. Taylor, that lives up t'other side o' the 
Buena Vista JRanche !" 

Regaining the summit on the southern side, we found a 
rolling country, ruder and more broken than that we had 
passed through, and in half an hour more reached a large 
mining camp, called lUinoistown.- It was eleven o'clock, 
and w- e determined to push on to Iowa Hill, eight or nine 
miles further, for dinner. , As w^e approached the North 
Fork of the American, a fir grander chasm than any we 
had yet encountered yawned before us. The earth fell 
sheer away to an unknown depth (for the bottom was invi- 
sible), while a mighty mountain wall, blue with the heated 
haze of noonday, rose beyond, leaning against the sky. 
Far to the east, a vision of still deeper gorges, overhung 
by Alpine peaks, glimmered through the motionless air. 
We had an uninterrupted descent of two miles, and a climb 
of equal length on a road hacked with infinite labor along 
the sides of the steeps, and necessarily so narrow that there 
were but few points where vehicles could pass. It was not 
ong before w^e arrived at a pitch so abrupt that the horses, 
with all their good- W' ill, could not hold back ; we alighted 
and walked, enjoying the giddy views into the abyss, which 
enlarged with every turn of the road. The muddy river 
was already in sight, and the bottom seemed not far distant, 



iq^EW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 149 

when three heavy teams emerged from around a corner, 
dragging their slow length up the height. Our driver 
selected the widest part of the road, drove to the edge, and 
ran his near wheels into the outside rut, where they held 
firm, while the off portion of the vehicle dropped over the 
edge, and remained thus, half-suspended. There was barely 
space for the teams to graze past. We reached the bottom 
with tottering knees, and faces plastered with a thick mix- 
ture of dust and sweat. 

The bridge-toll was two dollars — which, however, inclu- 
ded a contribution for keeping the road on both sides in 
good repair, and was really not exorbitant. The road 
itself, considering the youth of the country, is a marvel. 
W"e found the ascent very tedious, as the horses were 
obliged to stop every fifty yards, and regain their wind. 
But all things have an end ; and at two o'clock, hot, dusty, 
and hungry, we drove into Iowa Hill. 

This was formerly a very flourishing mining town, but 
has of late fallen off considerably, on account of some of 
the richest leads giving out. In spite of a broad, planked 
street, hotels, express offices, and stores, it has rather a 
dilapidated appearance. At the tavern where we stopped 
for a dinner, the following notice was stuck up : 

" constable's sale. 
" Fifty Chickins and Six Eose Bushes will be sold on Friday next." 

The guests' parlor was, at the same time, the sitting- 
room of the landlord's family, and, while we were waiting 
for dinner, the hostess entered into conversation with my 
wife. " Why won't you stop here this evening ?" she asked. 



150 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

" We are bound for Forest Hill," was the reply. " But 
you might as well stop ; our theatre is empty, and every- 
body would go." Thinking she referred to my lecture, 
my wife answered : " The engagement was made at Forest 
Hill for this evening.'' " I wish I could go," exclaimed the 
lady ; " I Jo like to hear concerts. You give quartetts, of 
course, as there are four of you. Is he (pointing to the 
driver) the comic one ? What is your husband — tenor or 
bass ? I'm sure you could get our theatre at a minute's 
notice. We haven't had no concert for a long while ; and 
if there's fun, you'd have lots of people !" 

We started again at three, as there were stUl twelve 
miles to be gotten over. A scene of truly inspiring beauty 
now received us. Emerging from the woods, we found 
ourselves on the brink of a deep, wild, winding valley, up 
which streamed the afternoon sun, tinting its precipitous 
capes and their feathery mantle of forests with airy gold, 
while the intervening gulfs slept in purple gloom. The 
more gradual sloj)es on either side were nobly wooded, 
with a superb intermixture of foliage. The road — broad, 
smooth, and admirably graded (costing, I am told, $30,000) 
— wound around the hollows and headlands, sometimes 
buried in the darkness of oracular woods, sometimes poised 
in sunshine over the hazy deeps. Our journey across 
this magnificent valley was a transit of delight. There is 
nothing more beautiful anywhere in the Sierra Kevada. 

Now, what do you suppose is the name attached to this 
spot ? What melodious title enfolds in its sound a sugges- 
tion of so much beauty ? It is called — conceal thy face, 
O modest reader ! I write it with a blush mantling my 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 151 

steel-pen, down to the veiy point — " Shirt-tail Canon !'' 
Palsied be the profane tongue that first insulted Nature by 
bestowing it ! The story is, that the first miner, washing 
in the stream, with nothing on but his shirt, was seen by the 
next comers, carrying up his gold in the tail thereof, like 
an apron, regardless of appearances. Be that as it may, 
this part of the Sierra ISTevada has been made infamous by 
its abundance of the most condemnable names which a 
beastly imagination ever invented. A little further up in 
the hills is a mining-camp, called " Hell's Delight !" There is 
also " Bogus Thunder" not far ofi*, and a village with the 
delicious appellation of " Ground Hog's Glory !" Hallelu- 
jah ! what a field the future poets of California will have! 
Fancy one of them singing : 

" When in Shirt-Tail Canon buds the grove, 
And the larks are singing in Hell's Delight, 
To G-round Hog s Glory I'll come, my love, 
And sing at thy lattice by night 1" 

Or thus : 

" My heart is torn asunder, 
My hfe is filled with pain ; 
The daughter of Bogus Thunder 
Looks on me with disdain 1" 

I have only given the most favorable specimens. There 
are some places, the names of which are current from mouth 
to mouth, but which, for obvious reasons, are never printed. 
Some of them are out-of-way camps, which will never 
become classic localities — but a spot of such remarkable 
beauty as the canon we have just passed through (I will 
not repeat the name) deserves to be immediately redeemed. 



1,52 AT HOME A^D AERO AD. 

Let me suggest a title. I noticed a resemblance, in certain 
features, to a wild and -beautiful valley in the Taygetus. 
Let it, therefore, be called " Spartan Canon"— which will, 
at the same time, convey the idea of the original name to 
the classical traveller. I call upon ye, inhabitants of Iowa 
Hill, Forest Hill, Yankee Jim's, Mount Hope, and Hell's 
Delight, to accept this name (if you cannot find a better) 
and let the present epithet perish with the wretch who first 
applied it ! 

Toward sunset we reached Yankee Jim's — a very pic- 
turesque and cheerful little village, in spite of its name. 
Thence, there were four miles along the summit of a ridge 
covered with gigantic pines and arbor vitse (the latter often 
200 feet high), to Forest Hill. The splendor of the sunset- 
gloAV among these mountains is not to be described. The 
trees stood like images of new bronze, inlaid with rubies — 
the air was a sea of crimson fire, investing the far-off ridges 

with a robe of imperial purple — while dark-green and violet 

» 
hues painted the depths that lay in shadow. The contrasts 

of color were really sublime in their strength and fierce- 
ness. 

We wandered off the trail, and, before knowing it, found 
ourselves in the bottom of a weird glen, called the " Devil's 
Caiion.'' The dusk was creeping on ; sheets of blue smoke, 
from fires somewhere in the forest, settled down between 
the huge, dark trunks ; unearthly whispers seemed to float 
in the air ; and the trail we followed became so faint in the 
gloom as barely to be discerned. I thought of the "Wolf's 
Glen,'' in 7>er Freiscliutz / and " Samiel, come ! ajDpear !" 
was on my lips. The only exit was by climbing a bank 



NEW PICTURES FROIM CALIFORNIA. 153 

which seemed almost perpendicular. By springing out and 
holding on the upper side of the vehicle, we prevented it 
from capsizing, regained the proper trail, and ere long 
reached Forest Hill. Mr. Webster, the express agent, 
kindly tendered us the hospitalities of his house — the repose 
of which was most grateful after our long journey. 

Forest Hill is a charming little place, on the very sum- 
mit of the lofty ridge overlooking the Middle Fork of the 
American, and at least three thousand feet above the sea. 
The single broad street is shaded by enormous pines and 
oaks, which have been left standing as the forest is thinned 
away. The hill is perforated with drifts, which run under 
the town itself; and, as they settle, will some day let it down 
— as recently occurred at Michigan Bluffs, where the people 
awoke one morning to find one side of the street five feet 
lower than the other. Forest Hill is a new and successful 
camp, and probably secure for two or three years yet. 
When the leads fail, it will fall into ruins, like Wisconsin Hill. 

From a point near the village, we had a fine view of the 
main chain of the Sierra ]N"evada, dividing the waters of the 
American from Carson Yalley. Pyramid Peak (which rises 
to the height of near twelve thousand feet) was clearly visi- 
ble, with a few snow-fields yet lingering on its northern side. 
Directly opposite to us lay Georgetown, my destination for 
the night ; but the great gulf of the Middle Fork intervened ; 
and while the distance, in an air-line, was not more than five 
miles, it w^as ten miles by the bridle-path across, and thirty 
by the wagon-road which we were obliged to take. This 
will give some idea of the grand fissures by which this 
region is divided. 

7* 



154 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

The journey from Forest Hill to Georgetown was 9o 
tedious, so fatiguing, and so monotonous, that I have no 
mind to say much about it. Our vehicle was an old- 
fashioned carriage, with seats about six inches apart. 
Being wedged in so tightly, we were doubly sensitive to 
the incessant furious jolts of the road; while, the day being 
intensely hot and still, the dust arose in clouds, which 
rarely allowed us to open our eyes. There were fifteen 
mortal miles of jolting down the gradually descending 
ridge to Murderer's Bar (another name !) and then fifteen 
miles up a similar ridge to Georgetown. Here and there, 
we had a pleasant bit of landscape ; but generally, the 
scenery was tame, compared with that of the previous 
day. 

Georgetown is one of the oldest mining camps in the 
State. I heard of it in 1849, although my trip did not ex- 
tend so far north. The place has a compact, quiet, settled 
appearance, which hints at stagnation rather than progress. 
The hotel is a very primitive affair — the bed-rooms being 
simply stalls, divided from one another, and from the sit- 
ting-room by muslin partitions. The theatre is a bankrupt 
church: nothing seems to flourish except drinking saloons. 
Mining was at a low ebb at the time of my visit, and many 
persons had taken up gambling instead. Nevertheless, 
there are several jolly and genial gentlemen in the place, 
and its atmosphere of leisure was rather attractive to me 
than otherwise. After rising in season, next morning, for 
the journey to Placerville, I had the satisfaction of rousing 
the sleeping stable-men, and waiting a full hour in the grow- 
ing dawn before they were ready with the vehicle. Across 



NEW PICTUKES FROM CALIFOHXIA. 155 

the way was a driuking-saloon, in which a company of gam- 
blers, who had been sitting there the evening before, were 
still plying their trade, with haggard faces, and blood-shot 
eyes. The law against gambling is quite inoperative in the 
mining districts, as the Maine Liquor Law, or any other 
statute repressing the coarse, natural appetites of men would 
be. The ruder the toil, the ruder the indulgence for which 
it pays. So long as the population of these places fluctu- 
ates according to the mineral wealth, and the moral influ- 
ence which springs from a stable society is wanting, this 
must continue to be the case. I see no help for it. Men 
will have cakes, though stufied with nightshade berries; 
and ale, though it be hell-broth. 

It was fairly sunrise before we got away from George- 
town, and the temper T\dth which I began the day's jour- 
ney was not sweetened by the knowledge that I had lost 
an hour of precious sleep to no purpose. But the balmy 
air, the golden light, and the soothing flavor of a sedative 
herb worked their accustomed magic, and I reserved my 
discontent for the heat and dust to come. We travelled 
for six miles, or more, through a succession of pleasant 
little valleys, all more or less populated, and, consequently, 
ravaged and devastated by pick and spade. In place of 
the green meadows, set in circles of glorious forest, as in 
1849, there were unsightly heaps of dirt and stones, and 
naked hill-sides, perforated with drifts, and spanned by 
lofty flumes, from which poured torrents of liquid mud, 
rather than water. ISTature here reminds one of a princess, 
fallen into the hands of robbers, who cut off her fingers for 
the sake of the jewels she wears. 



156 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

The passage of the South Fork of the American, which 
followed, resembled that of the other branches, on a smaller 
scale. Once on the summit, two miles across the flat top 
of the ridge brought us to the brink of a narrow, winding 
valley, in the bottom of which lay Placerville. Passing 
between rows of neat cottages, shaded with young cotton- 
woods, or embowered in trellises of passion-flower and 
Australian pea, we reached the business portion of the 
town — -jammed in the narrow bed between the hills, com- 
pact, paved, and bustling — and halted at the Gary House. 
To travellers coming from Utah, who have lived ten days 
on salt pork, and drank the alkaline waters of Humboldt 
River, this hotel must seem a veritable Elysium ; and even 
to us, who had had no breakfast, and were unconscionably 
hungry, it was a welcome haven. Clean, comfortable 
rooms, and an obliging host, seconded the first impression, 
and I did not so much wonder at the toughness of the 
meats, on learning that there is but one butcher in the 
place, who buys out or com petit iously ruins, all rivals. 

The diggings around Placerville are among the oldest in 
California. The place was known, in 1849, as "Hang- 
town," but having become a permanent centre of business, 
and the capital of Eldorado County, the original name 
(suggestive of Lynch law) was very properly dropped. I 
cannot say, however, that property is much more secure 
than under the old regime. A few days before our arrival, 
the County Treasurer's office was broken into, and the pub- 
lic funds, amounting to $8,000, carried off". Scarcely a day 
passed during our sojourn in the mountains, without our 
hearing of some store or express office being plundered, 



NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 157 

and it did not once happen that the thief was caught. As 
the currency is specie (banks being prohibited by the Con- 
stitution), money is a serious embarrassment. Besides, it 
cannot be identified, if stolen. One result of this prohibi- 
tion is, that many capitalists, having no secure place of 
deposit, bury their money until they need it. From one 
end of California to the other, coin is potted and put into 
the earth for safe keeping. Often, when a farmer wishes 
to make an investment, you may see him measuring so 
many feet from such a tree, at such an angle with such 
another tree, etc., until he has found the right spot, when 
he will dig you up five, or ten, or twenty thousand dollars. 
This is a phenomenon which I commend to the attention of 
political economists. 

To return to Placerville. The sides of the hills around 
are scarred with surface-mining and penetrated with drifts, 
while the stamps of quartz-mills may be heard pounding in 
the valley. Ditches, brought from the river twenty-seven 
miles above, are carried along the summits of the ridges, 
where they not only furnish means for washing the dirt, 
but occasionally irrigate gardens on the slopes. The best 
placers, I was told, are exhausted, and mining in the imme- 
diate neighborhood of the town is rather precarious, at 
present. I was more interested in visiting the reservoir of 
the Water Company, on a height some three or four miles 
distant. The cost of the ditch, fluming, istc, was upwards 
of $750,000. ISTo idea can be formed of the immense labor 
bestowed on such w^orks, along the whole range of the 
Sierra Nevada. There has been some wild engineering, it 
is true, and many of the w^orks might have been con- 



158 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

structed at half the expense ; yet they are none the 
less an exhibition of the colossal enterj)rise of the new 
country. 

In the afternoon, we paid a visit to a quartz mill, in a 
little ravine behind the town. The propelling power is 
steam, and the capacity of the mill twenty stamps, which 
will crush about one hundred tons of rock per week. These 
stamps are simply heavy iron pou7iders, lifted by the action 
of cogs on a main shaft, which turns behind them, and then 
allowed to fall on the pieces of broken quartz, which are 
fed in below. A stream of water flows constantly over the 
bed whereupon they fall, carrying away the powdered rock, 
after it has been reduced to sufficient fineness, over an in- 
clined plane, at the bottom of which it is gathered into a 
sluice. The quicksilver then separates the gold in the usual 
way. No use, I believe, has yet been made of the refuse 
quartz-powder ; but I should think it might be profitably 
employed in the manufacture of stone-ware. The plan of 
working is the simplest that can be devised. In many 
places, the old Spanish arastra is still employed. This is a 
hopper, in the centre of which is an upright shaft, turned 
by horse-power, in the same manner as a cider-mill. From 
the shaft project two horizontal bars, at the end of w^hich 
heavy stones are suspended, while the hopper is filled with 
broken quartz. By the turning of the shaft, the stones are 
di'agged over the quartz, slowly crushing and reducing it. 
It is a tedious, but very cheap manner of extracting the 
gold. 



NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 159 



N 8. — The Southern ]VIines. 

Hitherto, my journeys in the Sierra ISTevada had been 
entirely over new ground ; but now, I was to revisit the 
field of my adventures in 1849. I looked forward with 
much interest to seeino' ao-ain the bear-haunted woods, the 
glens where I had been lulled to sleep by the baying of the 
wolves, and where a chorus of supernatural voices sang to 
my excited imagination. The fresh, inspiring beauty of 
those scenes was still present to my eye, and I did not 
doubt that I should find them, if possible, still more attrac- 
tive since the advent of civilization. 

The first point to be reached was Jackson, the capital of 
Amador county, about thirty-five miles from Placer ville. As 
it was a cross road, traversing the ridges at right angles, 
this was an ample journey for one day. We were obliged 
to start before sunrise, taking the Folsom stage as far as 
Mud Springs, whence, after a delay of an hour, another 
vehicle set out for Drytown. This interval we employed in 
getting breakfast, which, had quantity and quality been re- 
versed, would have been a good meal. The table-cloth, from 
its appearance, might have lain all night in a barnyard, tram" 
pled by the feet of cattle ; upon it were plains of leathery beef, 
swimming in half-congealed tallow, mountains of sodden 
potatoes and leaden biscuit, with yellow, stratified streaks of 
potash, and seas of black, bitter fluid, which — mixed Avith 
damp, brown sugar, and cold, thin milk — was called coffee. 
Satan would have rejoiced to see the good gifts of God so 
perverted. We starved in the midst of plenty. It was 



160 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

" Victuals, victuals everywhere, 
And not a bit to eat." 

Presently the stage came along. It was a square-bodied 
machine, with imperfect springs, drawn by two horses. The 
seats were hard and flat, and covered with slippery leather. 
As Cowper says, " The slippery seat betrayed the sliding 
jDXirt ;" and one w^as obliged to be on the look-out, lest he 
should find himself on the floor of the vehicle in descend- 
ing the hills. 

The country through which we drove, though at a consi- 
derable elevation above the sea, was comparatively level. 
It was sparsely timbered, and more brown and scorched 
in appearance than the hot plains below. Here and there, 
however, Avere some pleasant little valleys — still pleasant to 
the eye, though cruelly mutilated by the gold-diggers. 
Quartz-mills, driven by steam, were frequent ; I could not, 
however, ascertain their proportion of success. I was struck 
with the great variety of opinion regarding quartz-mining 
among those with whom I conversed. I made it a point to 
ascertain the views of intelligent men, for the purpose of 
drawing juster conclusions. I found about an equal num- 
ber of the sanguine and desponding. Some said : " The 
richest yield is at the top of the vein ; it gradually runs out 
as you go downward" — while others affirmed, with equal 
certainty: "The gold increases as you approach the bed- 
rock ; and it is very evident that quartz-mining will give a 
deeper return as the drifts are sunk deeper." Most of them, 
however, considered the auriferous harvests of California as 
tolerably certain for the next fifty years. 

After several additional miles, through the same torn and 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALI^OR^^A. 161 

devastated region, offering very little to gratify the eye, we 
reached Drytown. This is a village of four or five hundred 
inhabitants, in a district once famed for its rich placers. 
The only interest it had for us was, that it gave us a dinner, 
and an hour's respite from our jolting stage-coach. Both 
these refreshments were welcome, as we still had ten or 
twelve miles to Jackson. 

I now began to look out for remembered land-marks ; but 
after a time gave up all hopes of recognising anything which 
I had seen before. In 1849, I had travelled this road on 
foot, plodding along through noble forests, which showered 
their suspended rain-drops upon my head, rarely catching a 
view of the surrounding hills. ^N'ow, the forests are cut 
away ; the hollows are fenced and farmed ; the heights are 
hot and bare ; quartz-mills shriek and stamp beside the road, 
and heavy teams, enveloped in dust, replace the itinerant 
miners, with wash-bowl on back and pick in hand. The 
aspect of this region is therefore completely changed. Even 
the village of Amador, which I remembered as a solitary 
ranche, was no longer to be recognised. The changes 
were for the worse, so far as the beauty of the scenery is 
concerned. * 

After crossing Dry Creek, the road ascended a long, 
gradual slope, on gaining the crest of which, I cried out in 
delight at the vision before us. The level, crimson rays of 
the sun streamed through the hazy air, smiting the summits 
of the mountains with a bloody glow. In the valley, two 
miles ofi", lay Jackson, half hidden by belts and groups of 
colossal pines. High in the east towered the conical peak 
of The Butte, which my feet first scaled, and to which I 



162 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

gave the name of Polo's Peak. In front, violet against the 
burning sky, was Mokelumne Hill and the picturesque 
heights around the Lower Bar — while far away, in an atmo- 
sjDhere of gorgeous color, we saw, or thought we saw, a 
pyramid of the Sierra Nevada. I knew the prominent 
features of the landscape, yet beheld them again, as in a 
dream. 

My recollections of Jackson were of two rough shanties 
in the woods, where I tried to feed a starving horse on corn- 
meal, and afterward slept all night on a raw hide spread on 
the ground, beside an Indian boy. Now, in the falling twi- 
light, we drove down a long, compact street, thronged with 
miners and traders, noticed the gardens in the rear, the 
church and court-house, and finally a two-story hotel, with 
a veranda filled with tropical flowers. As the sunset faded, 
and the half-moon shone in the sky, veiling whatever was 
peculiarly Californian in the appearance of the ]3lace, I could 
easily have believed myself in some town of the Apennines. 

Midway between Jackson and Mokelumne Hill rises the 
Butte, a noble landmark far and wide through the moun- 
tains. On my way to the Volcano, in November, 1849, I 
climbed to its summit ; and by right of discovery, conferred 
upon it the name of a brave old Indian Chieftain (Polo), 
who once lived in the neighborhood. I had hoped the 
name might remain, but was disappointed. It is now uni- 
versally called the Butte (which means any isolated hill), 
and all my inquiries had no greater success than to ascer- 
tain that there was 07ie man on the Mokelumne who had 
heard some other man say, years ago, that he (the other 
man) had heard it once called " Polo's Peak." My good 



NEW PICTURES FllOil CALIFORNIA. 163 

name (as I conceived it to be) is forgotten, while "Bogus 
Thunder" and " ]^ew-York-of-the-Pacific " still exist. Such 
is life ! 

I was glad to find, however, that a tradition of my ascent 
is still preserved in the neighborhood. The summit is now 
a favorite place of resort for pic-nic parties, in the pleasant 
season. Kot long ago, a romantic widow of Jackson made 
it a condition that she should be married there — ^which was 
accordingly done; clergyman, bride's-maids, friends, and 
refreshments all being conveyed to the top. There is no 
limit, however, to the eccentric fancies of brides. During 
the State Fair at Sacramento, a young couple succeeded in 
having themselves married on the platform of the great 
hall, in the view of two thousand people. While in Minne- 
sota, I heard of a marriage behind the sheet of Minne-ha-ha. 
Fancy the hajopy pair standing w^ith their feet in mud and 
their heads in spray, the clergyman yelling through the 
thunder of the fall : " Wilt thou have this man ?" etc., and 
the bride screaming "I will!" at the top of her voice! 
Others have been married in the Mammoth Cave, on Table 
Rock, on the Washington Monument, in a balloon, for 
aught I know. Whenever I see such an external straining 
after sentiment, I always suspect an inner lack of it. 

The next morning dawned warm and cloudless. Our 
day's journey was but eight miles to the village of Moke- 
lumne Hill, which we had seen the evening before, in the 
last rays of the sun, on the top of a mountain beyond the 
Mokelumne. I therefore hired a two-horse buggy, with a 
bright, intelligent driver, and we set out early, to avoid the 
noonday heat. After crossing some hills, which gave us 



164 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

lovely views toward Polo's Peak, we entered a narrow 
canon, winding downward to the river between steep accli- 
vities. Tlicroad, w^Mch was broad and of easy grade, had 
been excavated and built np with great labor ; ditches of 
sparkling water ran along the opposite bank, and groups 
of bay, evergreen oak, and manzanita rose warm in the sun- 
shine. While we were heartily enjoying the wild, shifting 
beauty of the glen, the driver suddenly turned around to 
me, saying : 

" You know this place, don't you ?" 

" I seem to recognise parts of it," said I, " but everything 
is so changed, since '49, that I could not be certain." 

" Why," he exclaimed, " the people say you are the first 
man that ever went through this canon !" 

Looking more closely, and taking the bearings of the hill 
above Lower Bar and the Butte, I saw that it was in reality 
the same ravine up which I had climbed after leaving the 
river, supposing that it might be a shorter passage to an 
Indian trail beyond. The old, forgotten picture came back 
suddenly, as if revealed by some lightning-flash in the dark 
of Memory. There was the gusty November sky ; the wild 
ravine, wet with recent rains ; dark pines rising from its 
depths; suspicious clumps of madrono and manzanita, 
which might conceal some grizzly bear; and myself, in 
well-worn corduroy armor, slowly mounting the rocky bed 
of the stream. This circumstance, which I had wholly for- 
gotten, had been remembered by others, and the descent 
of the canon had a double enjoyment to me, after the 
discovery. 

We came upon the Mokelumne River at Middle Bar, a 



NEW PICTUKES EEOM CALIFOENIA. ^ 165 

great bed of gravel and sand, now almost deserted, except 
by a few Chinamen in huge umbrella hats, who were forag- 
ing here and there, after the gleanings left by the white 
harvesters. A turn of the river concealed from my view 
the camp on the hill-side at Lower Bar, where Lieut. Beale 
and I had shared the hospitality of Baptiste, the voyageur^ 
and where, during a two-days' rain, I had amused myself 
by watching Senator Gwin lay down the political wires 
which he afterward pulled to some purpose. There I ven- 
tured on my first and last speculation. I was persuaded 
to invest |200 in an operation for damming the river. It 
promised well, the work was completed, the washings 
turned out splendidly, and I was in full hopes of receiving 
$1,000 in return for my venture, when the rains fell, the 
river rose, and away went the dam. " Let me give you a 
serious piece of advice," said Washmgton Irving to me, 
one day, " never invest your money in anything that pays 
a hundred per cent. !" And I never have, since then, and 
never will. 

For the sake of old times, I should gladly have gone 
down to the Lower Bar, but the sun was already high and 
hot, and an ascent of near a mile and a half lay before us. 
The Mokelumne at this point, however, does not lie in a 
tremendous trough, like the Forks of the American and 
the Yuba ; the steeps on either side are of irregular height, 
and broken by frequent, lateral canons. The scenery is, 
therefore, less savage and forbidding in appearance, but 
infinitely more picturesque. On reaching the summit of 
the mountain plateau, we saw before us the village — 
perched, as it were, on scattered hills, a loftier peak over 



166 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

hanging it on the east, a table-shaped mountain (with a 
race-course on the top), guarding it on the south, while 
elsewhere the steeps dropped off into gorges filled with 
dim blue mist. Though on a still grander scale, it reminded 
me somewhat of the positions of Perugia, or Narni, among 
the Roman Apennines. 

In other respects, the resemblance was quite as striking. 
The dry soil, with its rich tints of orange and burnt sienna 
— the evergreen oaks, so much resembling the Italian ilex 
— the broad-leaved fig-trees in the gardens — the workmen 
with bare, sunburnt breasts — the dolce far niente of a few 
loungers in the shade — and the clear, hot, October sky, in 
which there was no prophecy of winter, all belonged to 
the lands of the Mediterranean. If we had here the grace 
which Art has cast over those lands, thought I, we might 
dispense with the magic of their history. 

Bidding a reluctant good-bye to Mokelumne Hill, next 
morning, we continued our journey southward across the 
mountains — our next destination being San Andreas, the 
court-town of Calaveras county. The table-shaped moun- 
tain behind the former town is the water-shed between the 
Mokelumne and the Calaveras — the latter river having a 
broad and comparatively shallow basin, with numerous afilu- 
ents, while the Mokelumne and the Stanislaus, to the north 
and south of it, flew through deep, precipitous troughs. 
After we had passed the summit, our road dropped into a 
picturesque, winding glen, beyond which rose the blue mass 
of the lofty Bear Mountain. 

It was a journey of only eight miles to San Andreas, 
through a rolling, cheerful country, with some beginnings 



NEW PICTURES EEOM CALIFORNIA. 167 

at cultivation. A farmer who was threshing his wheat in 
the open air informed me that the yield averaged forty- 
two bushels to the acre ; this, of course, without manure, and 
with the most superficial ploughing. The vine grew with 
the most astonishing luxuriance wherever it was planted, 
and I have not the least doubt that the best wines of Cali- 
fornia will ultimately be produced from the hill-sides of the 
Sierra ISTcA^ada. As we a23j)roached the Calaveras river, 
the range of Bear Mountain rose high and blue on our left, 
like a last bulwark against the plain of the San Joaquin. 
The view from its summit is said to be magnificent. 

At noon we reached San Andreas, a village of perhaps 
eight hundred inhabitants, scattered over the northern 
slope of a hill, whose conical summit overhangs it. The 
place is neither so picturesque nor so well-built as Moke- 
lumne Hill, with the exception of the hotel, a new and 
spacious edifice of brick. Here, everything was neat and 
commodious, and we congratulated ourselves on finding 
such agreeable quarters. The hot autumnal afternoon dis- 
posed to laziness, yet we could not resist the temptation 
of strolling through and around the town, running the 
gauntlet of the curious eyes of thei loafers congregated 
about the doors of the drinking-saloons. 

In their structure, these mining villages are very similar. 
The houses are built close against each other, as in a large 
city. The most of them are of wood, and one story in 
height. Here and there, you see a block of brick stores, 
two stories high, flat-roofed, and with iron doors and 
shutters, as a protection against fire. There are plank 
sidewalks, and very often the streets are planked, also. 



168 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

Awnings keep off the hot sun, and verandas are introduced 
wherever it is practicable. Behind the main street are 
clusters of shanties inhabited by the miners— small, dusty, 
barren of ornament, and usually standing alone, with a 
rough oven of stones and clay adjoining. On the outskirts 
of these are the still more rude and repulsive dwellings of 
the Chinese. The alleys between are strewed with rags, 
old clothes, broken bottles, and miscellaneous filth, and 
swarm with — fleas, at least. This portion of the village 
strikingly resembles the native towns in Central Africa. 
There are usually one hotel, one small church, a theatre of 
rough boards, and five-and-twenty dram-shops to a place. 
On pleasant locations in the vicinity, are the comfortable 
residences and gardens of the successful traders, the owners 
of " leads," or quartz-mills, and the holders of office. 

Life in such a place, to a refined and cultivated man, 
must be rather dreary. There is already, it is true, some 
little society ; but relaxation of any kind is irregular and 
accidental, rather than permanent. Women fail ; reading 
(except of political newspapers) is an obsolete taste ; and 
the same excess which characterizes labor is too often 
applied to amusements. On the other hand, there is a 
freedom from restraint — an escape from that social tyranny 
which is the curse of the Atlantic States — almost sufficient 
to reconcile one to the loss of the other advantages of 
society. I do not think that the Californians, now that 
they have cast off their trammels, wiU ever voluntarily 
assume them again. The worst feature of the absorbing 
rage for gold is the indifference of the people to the 
morality of those whom they elect to office. No State 



NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFORNIA. 169 

in the Union has been, and still is, more shamefully- 
plundered. 

Reaching the slope of the hill, where a hot breeze, 
charged with rich, minty odors, blew in our faces, we 
climbed to the summit, which, as we now saw, was a level 
of about two acres, laid out and inclosed as the cemetery 
of San Andreas. A lofty cross is its appropriate crown. 
ISlo roses were planted on the graves, but the manzanita 
and a sort of dwarf ilex grew in clusters. The place had 
a solemn, yet soothing and cheerful aspect. No nearer 
hills interruj)ted the azure circle of the air, wherein the 
distant mountains floated ; the noises of labor, and trade, 
and profanity, and jollity, in the town below, blended into 
an indistinguishable hum ; while, to the east and west, a 
gap in the mountains seemed purposely left, that the sun 
might give this spot his first and latest greeting. The pre- 
dominant colors of the landscape were blue and a pale 
golden-brown, mottled with the dark, rich green of scatter- 
ing trees. A range of irregular peaks to the east shut out 
the snowy chain of the Sierra Nevada, but a lofty moun- 
tain, near the head-waters of the Stanislaus, was visible, far 
in the south. 

From the flat roof of the veranda, upon which our win- 
dow opened, we enjoyed a dehcious view of the sunset illu- 
mination of the landscape. Evening after evening, the 
same phenomenon had been repeated — a transmutation of 
the air into fluid color, of a pale crimson tinge, which lent 
itself to every object touched by the sun. The mountains 
shone like masses of glowing metal, and the trees near at 
hand stood as if formed of compact flame. During the 

8 



170 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

few minutes of sunset the color changed into the purest 
Vermillion, after which it gradually faded into dull purple, 
followed by an after-glow (as among the Alps), of faint 
golden radiance. The wind always falls at this hour, and 
the atmosphere is balmy, and fragrant with the odor of 
dry herbs. The nights are cool, but not cold — making one 
blanket comfortable, and requiring no more. 

"We hailed the morrow, for it was to take us to the south- 
ern limit of our journey through the mining regions. Two 
weeks of such rough, dusty travel, unrelieved by a single 
day of rest, had made us heartily weary, while the scenery, 
grand as it is, is nevertheless too monotonous to inspire an 
unflagging sense of enjoyment. The stage-coaches are ter- 
ribly uncomfortable, and the inhaling of an atmosphere of 
dust wdiich effectually hides your com2:>lexion and the color 
of your hair in the course of two or three hours, is not one 
of those trifling discomforts to which you soon become 
accustomed. It is said not to be unhealthy — in fact, our 
lungs suffered no inconvenience from it — but it often pro- 
duces violent inflammation in weak eyes. There are in- 
stances of persons having endangered their sight from this 
cause. The first symptom is an acute pain, intermittent in 
its character — which, if not allayed, terminates in ophthal- 
mia more malignant than that of Egypt. Women are more 
subject to it than men, and the worst cases are probably 
those who have been accustomed to a life of unnatural semi- 
darkness at home. 

At nine o'clock, the stage-coach from Mokelumne Hill to 
Sonora arrived, and we took passage to the latter place, 
thirty-four miles distant. As fate would have it, I was 



NEW PICTUEES FLOM CALIFORNIA. 171 

crammed into the narrow back-seat, beside a disgusting 
Chinaman. If there had been any enjoyment in the jour- 
ney, this fact alone would have spoiled it. The stale, musky 
odor of the race is to me unendurable : no washing can 
eradicate it, and this fellow was not washed. Hue, in his 
travels in Tartary, refers to the peculiar smell of the Chi- 
nese, and states that the dogs always discovered him under 
any disguise, by the difference of his bouquet. I do not 
doubt the statement. I would undertake to distinguish 
between, a Chinaman, a Negro, an Indian, and a member 
of the Caucasian race, in a perfectly dark room, by the 
sense of smell alone. The human blossoms of our planet 
are not all pinks and roses; ^vefind also the c^a^^wra stramo- 
nium, the toad's-flax, and the skunk-cabbage. 

Our course at first led in a southeastern direction, through 
one of the tributary valleys of the Calaveras, with the Bear 
Mountains rising grandly on our left. Here the drooping, 
elm-like evergreen oaks, Avhich had so charmed us in the 
valley of Russian River, again made their appearance, and 
the landscapes were once more warm, idyllic, and character- 
ized by exquisite harmony of color and outline. The hol- 
lows were less frequently scarred by surface-washings : the 
plough only had disturbed, in order to beautify, the face of 
Nature. On the other hand, it was evidently a region of 
gold-bearing quartz. In the neighborhood of Angel's, I 
noticed a number of mills, many of them running from 
twenty to thirty stamps. Some of these mills are said to 
be doing a very profitable business. They have effectually 
stripped the near hills of theii former forests, to supply fuel 
for the steam-enffines and beds for the sluices in which the 



172 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

gold is separated from the crushed rock. The bottoms of the 
skiices are formed of segments a foot thick, sawed off the 
trunk-s of pine-trees and laid side by side ; yet such is the 
wear and tear of the particles of rock and earth, carried 
over them by the water, that they must be renewed every 
two or three weeks. 

We found Vallecitos (an intermediate place,) to be a bran- 
new village of about three hundred inhabitants, having been 
burned to the ground a fortnight previous. The new houses 
were of wood, stuck side by side, like the old ones ; and the 
place will probably burn again, every summer. There was 
a French hotel and restaurant, which our conductor scorned 
— halting before the " Valhalla,'' an open saloon, with lager 
beer attachment. A dinner of sour-krout and boiled pork 
smoked upon the table ; but J^he beer, which should have 
completed the three-fold chord of Teutonic harmony, was 
decidedly out of tune. It mattered little, however, as but 
five minutes were allowed us for the meal. 

The worst part of the journey was still before us. The 
road wound for two or three miles up a shallow valley, 
walled on the right by a steep, level I'idge, which denoted 
our approach to the Stanislaus River. In a dip of this 
lidge is the reservoir of the ditch which supplies the mines 
m the neighborhood. Our road led past it, and over a low 
" divide,'' into a glen thickly wooded with oak and pine. 
The soil was very stony, and our progress rough and pain- 
ful, though rapid. In" the middle of this glen, where it 
opened to the sun, stood a neat farm-house, with a melon- 
patch and an orchard of luxuriant fruit-trees. Two miles 
beyond, crossing a ridge, and emerging from the thickest 



ISTEW PICTURES FHOM CALIFOEXIA. 173 

portion of the forest, we found ourselves on the brink of 
the great chasm of the Stanislaus. 

This pass, or gorge, is only equalled by that of the North 
Fork of the American. The length of the descent is about 
two miles ; but advantage is taken of little spurs and shoul- 
ders of the mountain to obtain a less difficult grade. The 
river was invisible, and we could only guess its distance 
below us by the perspective of the misty mountain-wall 
beyond. The scenery was of the most grand and inspiring 
character. Giant oaks and pines clung to the almost pre- 
cipitous steeps ; clumps of manzanita, covered with red 
berries, fringed the road, and below us yawned the gulf, 
full lighted by the afternoon sun, except to the eastward, 
where its sides so approach and overhang as to cast a per- 
petual shade. 

I walked to the bottom, but preferred riding up the oppo- 
site ascent. The other passengers, who trudged on in ad- 
vance, found their advantage in a rest of twenty minutes 
at the summit, and the hospitality of a farmer's wife, who 
regaled them with milk and hot biscuits. Before fairly 
reaching the top, I was surprised to see traces of mining 
operations, on all sides. On the left of the road was a deep 
chasm, resembling a tropical barranca^ which appeared to 
have been entirely excavated by art. Beyond it, on a level 
tract which was left standing, like an island between two 
arms of the chasm, was an orchard of splendid peach-trees 
— the branches whereof trailed upon the ground under the 
weight of their fruit. In the east rose a mountain-ridge — 
a secondary elevation of the Sierra Nevada ; for it appeared 
to overlook all between it and the central line of snowy 



174 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

pyramids. We entered a broad basin, inclining to the 
south, and drained by winter streams, which join the Stan- 
islaus further down. Everywhere the soil was dug up, and 
turned up, and whirled ni^side down. 

Presently, cottages and gardens offered a more cl]oc>rful 
sight, and the reservoir which supplies the mining com- 
panies of Columbia with water lay spread out before us 
like a lake, reflecting in its bosom the houses and spires of 
the town beyond. We were surprised and delighted at the 
extent and evident stability of the place. The population 
cannot be less than three thousand. There are solid blocks 
of buildings, streets of stores, a wide extent of suburban 
cottages dotting the slopes around, and all the noise and 
life of a much larger town. The airy verandas, festooned 
with flowering vines, the open windows, the semi-tropical 
character of the trees and plants, make a very different 
impression upon the visitor from that produced by Nevada 
or Grass Valley. Although scarcely a degree and a half 
apart, there are still the distinctive traits of North and 
South. In the population you find something of the same 
difference — the Northern emigrants taking to the northern 
mines by a natural instinct, and the Southern to the south- 
ern. 

Columbia and Sonora, towns of nearly equal size, are 
only four miles apart — rivals, of course. The broad valley 
lying between is probably the most productive placer io 
California. It has been dug over a dozen times, and still 
pays handsomely. From the perseverance with which every 
particle of earth, down to the bed-rock, has been scraped 
away in many places, one sees that the soil must be every- 



NEW PICTURES FKOM CALIFORNIA. 175 

where gold-bearing. Sucli a scene of ravage I have never 
beheld. Over thousands of square rods, the earth has been 
torn and burrowed into, leaving iinmense pits, out of which 
project the crooked fangs of rocks, laid bare to the roots 
and knotted together in unimaginable confusion. A sav. 
age, coming upon such a place, would instantly say : " Here 
the devil has been at work !" Our road, sometimes, was a 
narrow ridge, left standing between vast tracts where some 
infernal blast of desolation seemed to have raged. I was 
involuntarily reminded of the words of a hornpipe, more 
rowdy than refined : 

Did you ever see the Devil, 
With his iron wooden shovel, 
Scratchin' up the gravel 
With his big toe-nail ?" 

Here was the very place where he must have performed 
that operation. The earth seemed to have been madly 
daiced into^ rather than dug out. I thought I had already 
seen some evidence of the devastation wrought upon ISTa- 
ture by gold-mining, but this example capped the climax. 
It was truly horrible. You may laugh, you successful ope- 
rators, who are now fattening upon the gains drawn from 
these incurable pits ; but still I say, they are horrible, l^o 
cultivation, no labor will ever be able to remove such scars 
from the face of the earth. 

I found Sonora a very lively, pleasant place. Many intel- 
ligent Southern gentlemen are among the inhabitants, and, 
though there is scarcely a greater amount of fixed society 
than elsewhere, what there is of it is genial and attractive. 
The mining operations are carried on, not only around the 



i7Q AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

town, but in it and under it. The jDrincipal street is com- 
pletely undermined in places, and I even saw a store which 
was temporarily closed, in order that the cellar might be 
dug out. The Placer House had been burrowed under 
within the past year, and a large quantity of gold extracted- 
Some of the inhabitants seemed to think that the whole town 
would be gradually removed, mitil all the houses rest on the 
bed-rock, below which there is nothing. 

If a vein of gold could be found extending straight 
through the Sierra Nevada, there would soon be a tunnel, 
without cost, for the Pacific Railroad ! 



9. — ^The Big Teees of Calaveras. 

At Yallecitos (where we had dined the previous day, in 
the Yalhalla of the Teutonic gods), we were but twenty 
miles from the grove of Giant Trees, in Calaveras county. 
This grove was one of the things which I had determined 
to see, before setting out for California. I have a passion 
for trees, second only to that for beautiful human beings, 
and sculpture. I rank arboriculture as one of the fine arts. 
I have studied it in all its various schools — the palms of 
Africa, the cypresses of Mexico, the banyans and peepuls 
of India, the birches of Sweden, and the elms of New Eng- 
land. In my mind there is a gallery of master-pieces, which 
I should not be afraid to place beside thoce of the Vatican 
and the Louvre. Types of beauty and grace I had already 
— the Apollo, the Antinous, the Faun, even the Gladiator — 
but here were the Heraclidse, the Titans ! 



NEW PICTUEES EKOil CALIFORNIA. 177 

Besides, on the Aruericaii Continent, trees are our truest 
antiquities, retaining (as I shall show) the hieroglyphics, 
not only of Nature, but of Man, during the past ages. The 
shadows of two thousand years sleep under the boughs of 
Montezuma's cypresses, at Chapultepec : the great tree of 
Oaxaca is a cotemporary of Solomon, and even the sculp- 
tured ruins of Copan, Palenque, and Uxmal are outnum- 
bered in years by the rings of trunks in the forests which 
hide them. In California, the only human relics of an ear- 
lier date than her present Indian tribes, are those of a race 
anterior to the Deluge; but those giants of the Sierra 
E'evada have kept, for forty centuries, the annual record 
of their growth. As well think of going to Egypt without 
seeing the Pyramids, as of visiting California, without 
making a pilgrimage to her immemorial Trees ! 

I procured a two-horse team, with driver, in Sonora, 

regardless of expense. Mr. E , whose labors were now 

drawing to a close, also accompanied us. We had but two 
days for the trip — in all, sixty miles of very rough moun- 
tain-road — and therefore started with the first peep of 
dawn. As far as Vallecitos, our road was that which we 
had traversed in coming from San Andreas, crossing the 
great chasm of the Stanislaus. The driver, however, took 
another route to Columbia, leading through a still more 
terribly torn and gashed region, and approaching the town 
from the eastern side. Here were huge artificial chasms, 
over which the place seemed to hang, like Fribourg over 
Its valley. The multitude of flumes, raised on lofty tressle- 
work, which crossed these gulfs — the large water-wheels — • 
the zigzag sluices below, and the cart-roads running on nar- 

8^ 



i78 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

row planes of different elevation into the various branches 
of the mines, with distorted masses of primitive rock stick- 
ing up here and there, formed, altogether, a picture so A'^ast 
and grotesque as to make us pause in astonishment. I 
remember nothing like it in any other part of the w^orld. 

We breakfasted at the Broadway Hotel, and then hast- 
ened on, in order to reach Murphy's by noon. The gulf of 
the Stanislaus was crossed without accident, as it was rather 
too early for any other teams to be abroad on the road. 
The possibility of meeting another vehicle is the one great 
risk which haunts you, during such transits. ISTear Yal- 
lecitos, while crossing one of the primitive bridges, our 
"off" horse got his leg into a hole, injuring it rather 
severely, though not so as to prevent his going on. The 
miners carry their ditches and sluices across a road just as 
they please ; and in order to save a few planks, bridge them 
with rough logs and the branches of trees, interspersed 
with irregular boulders, to hold them. " When a stick is 
too crooked for anything else, they make a bridge of it," 
growled the driver, Avho threatened to tear up a fence or a 
flume, and would have done so, had not the bridge been 
mended on our return. 

At Vallecitos, v\^e left the road to San Andreas, and took 
a trail leading eastward to Murphy's, an old mining-camp, 
four or five miles distant. We passed though a succession 
of shallow valleys, which in spring must be lovely, with their 
scattered trees, their flowery meadows, and the green of 
their softly-rounded hills. They were now too brown and 
dry — not golden with wild oats, like the Coast Mountains, 
but showino' the dull hue of the naked soil. In one of the 



NEAV PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 179 

broadest of these valleys lay Murphy's — a flourishmg vil- 
lage until ten days previous, when it was swept away by 
fire. This was the fourth mining town destroyed during 
our visit ! The cottage residences, standing alone in the 
midst of their gardens, escaped ; but the business portion 
of the place, including the hotel, was utterly consumed. 

The proprietors of the hotel, the Messrs. Perry, are also 
the owners of the Big Trees. They enjoy a wide repu- 
tation for their enterprise, and the good fare w^herewith 
they regale the traveller. They had already erected a 
shanty among the ruins, and promised us dinner while the 
horses were feeding. My wife was kindly received by 
Mrs. Perry, and I was overwhelmed with cordial invitations 
to stop and entertain the Murphyites — which, to my regret, 
was impossible. We had, in fact, a miraculous dinner — 
everything was good of its kind, and admirably cooked. 
What more can be said ? The claret was supreme, and the 
pears which we purchased for dessert dissolved in inexpres- 
sible fragrance upon the tongue. The farmer from whom 
tve procured them ]3resented me with a watermelon, Mr. 
P. added some fresh meat for our supper at the forest hotel, 
and we went our way rejoicing. 

In the outskirts of the village were encamped companies 
of newly-arrived emigrants, among their shattered wagons 
and their weary cattle, and we met numbers of others on 
the way. From Luther's Pass at the head of Carson Yal- 
ley, a trail turns southward, crosses the Sierra, and passing 
down the ridge above Silver Valley to the Big Trees, forms 
the most direct road from Carson River to the Southern 
mines. These emigrants were now at the end of their toil 



180 AT HOME AND ABllOAD. 

and sufferings ; but, instead of appearing rejoiced at the 
deliverance, their faces wore a hard and stern expression, 
with something of Indian shyness. The women, as if con- 
scious that their sun-browned faces and their uncombed 
hair were not particularly beautiful, generally turned their 
heads away as we passed. Dirty, dilapidated, and frowsy 
as many of them were, they all wore hoops ! Yes, even 
seated in the wagons, on the way, their dusty calicoes were 
projected out over the whiffle-trees by the battered and 
angular rims of what had once been circles ! It was an exhi- 
bition of sacrifice to fashion, too melancholy for laughter. 

The valley of Murphy's is 2,000 feet above the sea, and 
lies at the foot of those long lateral ridges which connect 
the broken ranges called the Foot-Hills with the central 
ridge of the Sierra N'evada. The distance to the Big Trees 
is fifteen miles, with an additional ascent of 2,500 feet. 
Immediately on leaving the village, we entered a close, 
wooded canon, down the bottom of which rushed the water 
of a canal, as if in its natural bed. It was delightful to 
drive in the shade of the oaks and pines, with the clear 
waters of a roaring brook below us — clear water being the 
rarest sight in these mountains. Gaining the summit of 
the ridge, we drove for miles over an undulating, but 
rapidly-ascending road, deep in dust and cut into disagree- 
able ruts by the wheels of emigrant wagons. Huge shafts 
of fir, arbor- vit3e, and sugar-pine, arose on all sides, and the 
further we advanced the grander and more dense became 
the forest. Yf henever we obtained an outlook, it revealed 
to us hills similarly covered : only now and then, in the 
hollows, were some intervals of open meadow. The ditch, 



NEAY PICTURES FEOIE CALIFORNIA. 181 

coming from far up in the mountains, still kept "beside us, 
sometimes carved in the steep side of the hill, and some- 
times carried across a valley on a wooden framework a 
hundred feet high. 

The air perceptibly increased in coolness, clearness, and 
delicious purity. The trees now rose like colossal pillars, 
from four to eight feet in diameter, and two hundred feet 
in height, without a crook or a flaw of any kind. There 
was no undergrowth, but the dry soil was hidden under a 
bed of short, golden fern, which blazed like fire where the 
sunshine struck it. We seemed to be traversing some vast 
columned hall, like that of Karnak, or the Thousand 
Columns of Constantinople — except that human art never 
raised such matchless pillars. Our necks ached from the 
vertical travels of our eyes, in order to reach their tops. 
Really, the V7"estern hyperbole of tall trees seemed true, 
that it takes two men to see them — one beginning where 
the other leaves off. 

Our progress, from the ascent, and the deep dust which 
concealed the ruts, was slow, and would have been tedious, 
but for the inspiring majesty of the forest. But when four 
hours had passed, and the sun was near his setting, we 
began to look out impatiently for some sign of the Trees. 
The pines and arbor-vitse had become so large, that it 
seemed as if nothing could be larger. . As some great red 
shaft loomed duskily through the shadows, one and then 
another of us would exclaim : " There's one !" — only to 
convince ourselv^es, as we came nearer, that it was not. 
Yet, if such were the courtiers, what must the monarchs 
be ? We shall certainly be disappointed : nothing can 



182 AT HOME A^'D ABROAD. 

fulfil this promise. A thick underwood now appeared, 
radiant with the loveliest autumnal tints. The sprays 
of pink, purple, crimson, and pure gold flashed like 
Sj^rinkles of colored lire amid the dark-green shadows. 
" Let us not ask for more," said I ; " nothing can be more 
beautiful.'' 

Suddenly, in front of us, where the gloom was deepest, 
I saw a huge something behind the other trees, like the 
magnified shadow of one of them, thrown upon a dark-red 
cloud. While I was straining my eyes, in questioning 
wonder, the road made a sharp curve. Glancing forward, 
I beheld two great circular — shot-towers ? Not trees^ 
surely ! — but yes, by all the Dryads, those are trees ! Ay, 
open your mouth, my good driver, as if your two eyes 
were not suflicient, while we sit dumb behind you ! What 
can one say ? What think, except to doubt his senses ? 
One sentence, only, comes to your mind — " there were 
giants in those days." 

Between these two colossi, called The Sentinels, ran our 
road. In front, a hundred yards further, stood the plea- 
sant white hotel, beside something dark, of nearly the 
same size. This something is only a piece of the trunk of 
another tree, which has been felled, leaving its stump as the 
floor of a circular ball-room, twenty-seven feet in diameter. 
Dismounting at the door, we were kindly received by the 
Doctor, and assured of good quarters for the night. The 
sun was just setting, and we were advised to defer the 
inspection of the grove until morning. Seating ourselves 
in the veranda, therefore, w^e proceeded to study The 
Sentinels, ivhose tops, three hundred feet in the air, were 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORIsnA. ] 83 

glowing in golden lustre, while the last beam had passed 
away from the forest below them. 

To my astonishment, they did not appear so very large, 
after all ! Large they were, certainly, but nothing remark- 
able. At first, I was puzzled by this phenomenon, but pre- 
sently remembered that the slender saplings (apparently) 
behind them, were in themselves enormous trees. In 
dwarfing everything around them, they had also dwarfed 
themselves. Like St. Peter's, the Pyramids, and every- 
thing else which is at once colossal and symmetrical, the 
eye requires time to comprehend their dimensions. By 
repeatedly walking to them, pacing round their tremendous 
bases, examining the neighboring trees, and measuring 
their height by the same comparison, I succeeded in gradu- 
ally increasing the impression. When the last gleam of 
twilight had gone, and the full moon mounted above the 
forest, they grew in grandeur and awful height, until the 
stars seemed to twinkle as dew-drops on their topmost 
boughs. Then, indeed, they became older than the Pyra- 
mids, more venerable than the triune idol of Elephanta, 
and the secrets of an irrecoverable Past were breathed in 
the dull murmurs forced from them by the winds of night. 

" Thank God that I have lived to see these works of His 
hand!" was the exclamation with which I turned away, 
reluctantly driven in-doors by the keen, frosty air. Before 
a cheerful fire the doctor related to us the history of the 
discovery of the grove. When I was on the Mokelumne, 
in 1849, its existence was unknown. At the close of that 
year, some miners, prospecting high up in the mountains, 
are reported to have come upon some of the trees, and to 



184 AT HOME AXD ABKOAD. 

have been laughed at, and called hard names by then* 
friends, on account of their incredible stories. In the 
spring of 1850, however, a company on a tour of prospect- 
ing, hunting, and general speculation, happened to encamp 
in a valley about four miles distant. One of the men, 
pushing up the ridge, alone, found himself at last in the 
midst of the monstrous grove. He was at first frightened 
(I can well imagine it), then doubtful, then certain. Re- 
turning to the camp, he said nothing about the trees, 
knowing that he would only be called a liar, but informed 
the leader of the party that he had found signs of gold, or 
of deer, higher up, and offered to guide them. By this 
device he brought them all to the grove — and the story of 
the Big Trees soon afterward astonished the world. 

But with discovery came also ruin. After the first 
astonishment was over, came the suggestion of a speculative 
mind — " Can't some money be made out of this here 
thiug ?" A plan was soon formed. One of the biggest 
trees must be cut down, barked, and the pieces of bark 
numbered, so that when put together again in the same 
order, they would, externally, exactly represent the 
original tree. Take them to New York, London, Paris — 
and your fortune is made. How to get the tree down ? 
was the next question. A mass of solid wood, ninety feet 
in circumference, was clearly beyond the powers of the 
axe. Where was the saw, or the arms to wield it, which 
could do the work ? But the prospect of money sharpens 
the wits, and this difiiculty was finally overcome. Pump- 
augers were the thing ! B}^ piercing the trunk with a 
great number of horizontal bores, side by side, it might 



NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 185 

finally be cut asunder. , Augers were therefore procured, 
and two sets of hands went to work. 

After a steady labor of six weeks, the thing was done — 
but the tree stood unmoved ! So straight and symmetric 
cal was its growth, so immense its weight, and so broad 
its base, that it seemed unconscious of its own annihilation, 
tossing its outer branches derisively against the mountain 
winds that strove to overthrow it. A neighboring pine, of 
giant size, was then selected, and felled in such a way as 
to fall with full force against it. The top shook a little, 
but the shaft stood as before ! Finally the spoilers suc- 
ceeded in driving thin wedges into the cut. Gradually, 
and with great labor, one side of the tree was lifted : the 
line of equilibrium was driven nearer and nearer to the 
edge of the base : the mighty mass poised for a moment, 
and then, with a great rushing sigh in all its boughs, 
thundered down. The forest was ground to dust beneath 
it, and for a mile around, the earth shook with the concus- 
sion. 

Yet, perhaps, it is as well that one tree should be felled. 
The prostrate trunk illustrates the age and bulk of these 
giants better than those which stand. We learn from it 
that the wood was sound and solid throughout ; that the 
age of the tree was thirty-one hundred years; that it 
contained two hundred and fifty thousand feet of timber : 
and that, a thousand years ago, the Indians built their fires 
against its trunk, as they do now. The stump, as I said 
before, is the floor of a ball-room : higher up (or, rather, 
further ofiT), is a bowling-alley. The pine trees, forming 
the forest around the house, though apparently so small, 



186 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

average six feet in diameter, and over two hundred in 
height. 

Oar quarters at the little hotel were all that could be 
desired. Pure, ice-cold water, venison, delicious bread and 
butter, and clean beds, all combined to make us regret 
that our stay was so limited. At daybreak the Doctor 
summoned us, and w^e prepared for a stroll through the 
grove before sunrise. The great Trees, to the number of 
ninety, are scattered through the pine-forest, covering a 
space about half a mile in length. A winding trail, 
ascending one side of the glen, and descending on the 
other, conducts to the principal trunks. They have all 
received names, more or less appropriate. ISTear the house 
is the " Beauty of the Forest," really a paragon of colossal 
elegance, though comparatively young. Her age is pro- 
bably not more than two thousand years. 

How cool, and silent, and balmy was the stupendous 
forest, in the early morn ! Through the open spaces we could 
see a few rosy bars of vapor far aloft, tinted by the coming 
sun, while the crimson and golden sprays of the undergrowth 
shone around us, like "morning upbreaking through the 
earth !" The dark-red shafts soared aloft rather like the 
great, circular watch-towers of the Middle Ages, than any 
result of vegetable growth. We wandered from tree to 
tree, overwhelmed with their bulk, for each one seemed more 
huge than the last. Our eyes could now comprehend their 
proportions. Even the driver, who at first said, "They're 
not so — conde'm7ied big, after all!" now w^alked along 
silently, occasionally pacing around a trunk, or putting his 
hand upon it, as if only such tangible proof could satisfy him 



NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFOEXIA. 18'? 

We first visited the " Tliree Graces,'' then the " Miner's 
Cabin" and "Uncle Tom's Cahin." The two last are 
hollowed out at the bottom by Indian fires, Avhich have 
burned themselves central chimneys far up the trunk. 
Either of them would give shelter to a family of moderate 
size. The next group bore the traces of fools. Some love- 
sick blockhead, visiting the grove in company with three 
ladies, one of whom looked coldly upon his suit, another 
sang, and another did something else, has fastened upon three 
of the trees marble tablets, inscribed severally, in letters 
of gold, "The Marble Heart (!)" "The ]N"ightingale," and 
" The Salem Witch." I said to the Doctor : " Have you 
a ladder and a hammer about the house ?" " Yes — why ?" 
" Because if I were to remain here to-night, you would 
find those things smashed to-morrow morning." His fur- 
tive smile assured me that the search for the trespasser 
would not be very strict. Miss Avonia Jones, an actress, 
who was there a short time previous, bestowed her own 
name upon a tree, and likewise had a marble tablet pre- 
pared, regardless of expense. Fortunately the tablet 
happened to reach Murphy's, on its way to the grove, just 
before the fire, and was destroyed. Fancy one of those 
grand and awful trees bearing the name of " Avonia Jones I" 
Even Senator Gwin, as I was informed, had his name cast 
on an iron plate, and sent to the Mariposa Grove, to be 
placed on one of the largest trees. Oh ! the pitiful vanity 
of our race ! 

At the top of the glen stands the "Mother of the 
Forest," ninety-three feet in circumference, and three hun- 
dred and twenty-five feet high. Her bark, which has beer 



188 AT HOME A'ND iiBKOAD. 

stripped off to a height of one hundred and ten feet, 
now represents her in the Crystal Palace at Sydenham. 
This was wanton wickedness. She now stands blasted, 
stretching her bare, reproaching arms high over the forest. 
She forms part of what is called the "Family Group," 
numbering twenty-four trees. Here we commenced the 
return trail, and soon came upon the " Father of the 
Forest," which surpasses everything else by bis tremendous 
bulk. He lies upon the earth, as he fell, centuries ago. 
His trunk is one hundred and ten feet in circumference at 
the base, and his original height is estimated to have been 
four hundred and fifty feet ! In contemplating him, one 
almost refuses to credit the evidence of one's senses; By 
counting a few of the rings, and making a rough estimate, 
I satisfied myself that his age could not have been less than 
Jive thousand years I The interior of the trunk is burned 
out, forming a lofty, arched passage, through which you 
walk for one hundred and eighty feet, and then emerge 
from a knot-hole ! Not far off is another prostrate trunk, 
through which a man may ride on horseback for more than 
a hundred feet. 

There are a variety of trees named after various States ; 
also the "Old Maid" and "Old Bachelor," two lonely, 
leaning, dilapidated figures, and "Pike," a tall, gaunt 
trunk, not so inappropriately named. The largest of all 
the living trees is called " Hercules," and is, if I mistake 
not, ninety-seven feet in circumference. I suggested that 
his name should properly be changed to " The Patriarch." 
Young trees, sprung from the seeds, are seen here and 
there, but the soil seems insufficient to nourish many of 



NEW PICTDKES mOM CALIl^'OIiNIA.. 189 

them, until the older race passes away. The Doctor called 
my attention to a new and curious fact. In the earth, 
completely covered by the gradual deposits of centuries 
of falling leaves, are the trunks of the progenitors of these 
giants. The wood is almost black, and has a dry, metallic 
sound. In one place a living tree, between two and three 
thousand years old, is found to be planted astride of 
another trunk, entirely hidden in the soil ! It is evident 
that eight, or perhaps ten, thousand years have elapsed 
since this race of trees first appeared on the earth. One 
is bewildered by the reflections which such a discovery 
suggests. 

During our walk, we watched the golden radiance of 
the sun, as, first smiting the peaks of the scattered giants, 
it slowly descended, blazing over a hundred feet of their 
massive foliage, before the tops of the enormous pines 
were touched. This illumination first gave us a true com- 
prehension of their altitude. While sketching The Senti- 
nel afterwards, from the veranda, the laws of perspective 
furnished a new revelation. The hostess and my wife, 
standing together at the base of a tree, became the veriest 
dwarfs. Beyond them was what appeared to be a child's 
toy-cart — in reality the wagon of an emigrant family, 
which had arrived the evening before ! Some of the 
young "Pikes," expert with their rifles, brought down a 
few cone-bearing twigs, two of which the Doctor presented 
to me, together with a large stick of timber, and a piece 
of bark, four inches thick, of a golden-brown color, and 
with the softness and lustre of velvet. 

Botanists have now decided that these trees are akin to 



190 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the California redwood, Sequoia sempervirens, and they 
will henceforth be known as the Sequoia gigantea^ thereby 
settling the national quarrel as to w^hether they shall be 
called Washmgtonia or WeUingtonia. It is singular 
that this discovery should not have been sooner made : a 
single glance at the cone is enough. It is very small, not 
one-fourth the size of a man's fist, containing a few thin, 
laminar seeds, something like those of a parsnip. As the 
tree will bear a degree of cold equal to zero, it may be 
successfully grown in the latitude of Washington. The 
growth is slow at first — so the gardeners in Sacramento 
and San Francisco inform me — ^but increases rapidly as the 
tree stains root. 

Since the discovery of this grove, three others have been 
found, showing that the tree is not phenomenal in its 
appearance. One of these groves, near the head-waters 
of the ^Tuolomne, lies at an altitude of six thousand feet, 
and contains/ about four hundred trees, but few of which 
are thirty feet in diameter. The Mariposa Trees, on the 
road to the Yo-semite Valley, number about three hun- 
dred, one of which is said to be one hundred and two feet 
in circumference. Visitors are divided in opinion as to 
which grove is grandest and most impressive in its charac- 
ter. But he who would not be satisfied with the Calaveras 
Trees is capable of preferring his own nondescript cottage 
to the Parthenon, and his own crooked legs to those of 
the Apollo Belvidere. 

Taking a last look at these immemorial giants of the 
forest, as they stretched their tufted boughs silently in the 
sunshine, over the heads of the vassal trees, we drove 



NEW PICTUKES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 191 

down the mountain through the aisles of pine, and between 
the gem-like sprays of the thickets. In four hours we 
reached Murphy's, dined again luxuriously, and then sped 
away for Columbia, where my evening's work awaited me. 
It seems almost miraculous that we should cross the great 
chasm of the Stanislaus for the third time, without meet- 
ing another team. 



10. — Califoenia, as a Home. 

At last we packed for a final departure from the moun- 
tains. The trip to Stockton, a distance of about fifty-five 
miles, was to be accomplished in a single day. At three 
o'clock in the morning we took our seats in the stage, and 
after picking up a sufficient number of passengers to fill the 
huge, swinging vehicle, emerged from Sonora by the lower 
entrance of the valley. The morning was chill, the road 
rough, and our ride remarkably tedious. After w^e had 
made ten or tw^elve miles, the sun rose, we breakfasted, 
.and the scenery improved. There were three or four vil- 
lages on the road, which had an air of permanence and 
prosperity, but the valleys were too narrow and too entirely 
given over to gold-mining to allow of farming to any great 
extent. The road was, at the same time, stony and dusty, 
and we were heartily glad when the settlement at Knight's 
Ferry, on the Stanislaus, announced our exit from the 
mountain region. 

Knight's Ferry is a smart, busy place of near a thousand 
inhabitants. The broad bar which the river here makes is 
quarried up, and trenched in all directions by the indefati- 



192 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

gable gold-miners. There is a large hotel, the chief energy 
of which appears to be expended on a spacious bar-room, 
well supplied wdth ice and liquors. We here changed 
stages, having the satisfaction of knowing that only thirty 
miles, for the most part of level road, separated us from 
Stockton. A few more long, sweeping undulations — the 
last subsiding waves of the Sierra Nevada — and we entered 
the great plain of the San Joaqnin. "We lost, it is true, the 
pure mountain air, the blue chasms, the splendid pines, but 
we had no longer the dread of meeting vehicles, the danger 
of overturns, the jolts and the dry quagmires of dust. 
Merrily our coach rolled along over the level floor, between 
the high redwood fences, past occasional groves of live-oak, 
farm-houses, dusty orchards, wind-mills, turning in hot 
puffs of southern wind, and stacks of shining straw or 
snowy bags of grain. Ten rapid minutes, only, were 
allowed us for dinner, and by two o'clock we saw the 
spires of Stockton over the groves of scattering oaks which 
surround the town. 

Broad, cheerful, watered streets, suburban gardens, neat 
churches, and a glimpse of shipping in the tide-water slough, 
gave us a pleasant initial impression of the place, which was 
not diminished by the clean, comfortable quarters we 
found at the Weber House. How delicious it was to sit 
in the open French windows, watching the golden afternoon 
light dee2:)en into sunset color on the blue water, the groves 
of oak, the church-sjDires, and the dim mountain-ranges far 
away, knowing that our month of rude mountain-travel 
was over! Repose is always sweet, but never more so 
than after prolonged fatigue. 



NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFOENIA. 193 

We were greatly delighted with' oar visit to the resi- 
dence of Mr. Weber, the original proprietor of Stockton, 
who has transferred a tongue of land, between two arms 
of the slough, into a garden, and built himself a spacious 
house in the centre. There is no more delightful villa on 
Bellosguardo or the slopes of Fiesole. A thick hedge, out- 
side of which is a double row of semi-tropical trees, sur- 
rounds the peninsula. The gate opens into a lofty avenue 
of trellis-work, where the sunshine strikes through pulpy 
bunches of amethyst and chrysolite, while, on either hand, 
beds of royal roses of every hue (except the impossible 
blue) fill the air with ripe odor. The house is low, but 
spacious, with wood-work of the native redwood, scarcely 
less beautiful than mahogany. Vine-covered verandas sur- 
round it and keep off the sun, and every window discloses 
a vision of plants which would be the glory of any green- 
house on the Atlantic side. 

In Mrs. Weber, I found an old acquaintance of my 
former visit. Well I remembered the day when, hot, hun- 
gry, and foot-sore, I limped up to the door of her father's 
ranche, in the valley of San Jose, and found her reading a 
poem of mine (no author ever had a more welcome intro- 
duction !) — when her father saddled his horse, and rode 
"with me to the top of a mountain, and her own hands pre- 
pared the grateful supper and breakfast which gave me 
strength for the tramp to Monterey. It was pleasant to 
meet her again as the happy mistress of such a princely 
home. 

'the .garden delighted us beyond measurfe^ The walks 
were waist-deep in fuchsia, heliotrope, and geranium ; the 



194 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

lemon verbena grew high above our heads, and the pepper- 
trees, with their loose, misty boughs, hailed us as old 
friends from the skies of Athens. A row of Italian cypress- 
es, straight and spiry as those which look on Florence 
from San Miniato, were shooting rapidly above the other 
growths of the garden. How they will transform the 
character of the landscape when, at last, their dark obe- 
lisks stand in full stature ! Here, in the middle of October, 
all was bloom and warmth, as in our Atlantic Augusts. A 
week or two of heavy rain, in November, ushers in the 
winter, and the balmy skies, green turf, and sprouting 
daisies of January, announce the coming of another beau- 
tiful year. What a country is this for a home — if it were 
not quite so new! 

Our passage was taken for Thursday, the 20th of Octo- 
ber, so that but few days were left us on Californian soil, 
and we hastened back to San Francisco. We had already 
overstayed by a fortnight the time which we had allotted to 
our visit, but although private interests and sacred ties 
alike called us home, we could not conceal an emotion of 
sorrow and regret at the thought of leaving. We had 
found many kind friends in San Fran.cisco, so that the 
charm of human associations was added to that of its cli- 
mate and scenery. Besides the free, liberal, sensible life 
of the place has its separate attractions. The society of 
San Francisco is a combination of two extremes — the aris- 
tocratic and democratic principles in sharp contrast — Puri- 
tanism in religion, and Sunday theatres— and between the 
two, a man of '^ense and reflection finds a clear space, where 
he may live and move untrammelled. 



NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 195 

On Wednesday evening, I gave my final lecture, tor the 
benefit of the Protestant Orphan Asylum — ^making, in all, 
thirty-eight lectures in California, in the space of eight 
vi^eeks. As the first attempt to transplant the Great Insti- 
tution to the Pacific Coast, the result was in the highest 
degree cheering. My visit was made at probably the most 
unfavorable period of the year — at the close of the dry 
season, when business is dull, and in the midst of violent 
political excitement — yet there was no single instance of 
failure. The people everywhere showed themselves wide- 
awake, intelligent, and appreciative. 

Although my impressions of California have been scat- 
tered f)lentifully throughout the foregoing sketches, my 
readers may, like myself, feel the necessity of reproducing 
them in a final resume, detached from my narrative of per- 
sonal experiences. During the interval often years between 
my two visits, I traversed the three continents of the ancient 
hemisphere, passing through all zones of the earth (with 
the exception of the Antarctic) ; and therefore possessed 
the best possible means of verifying or correcting the im- 
pressions of the first visit by those of the second. This 
circumstance, I trust, may give additional weight to my 
opinions, even with those who may honestly difier from 
them. 

The first thing to be considered, in discussing the cha- 
racter of a new country, is its climate. California possesses 
the great advantage of lying upon the western side of the 
continent, which, as compared with the eastern, is an iso- 
thermal difference equal to ten degrees of latitude. Thus, 
San Francisco, lying on very nearly the same parallel as 



196 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

Riclimond, possesses the climate of Andalusia and Sicily — 
or Jacksonville, Florida, on our Atlantic Coast. There are 
local differences, however, which give it an advantage over 
countries in the same latitude in Europe. Climate, it is 
well-known, is greatly modified by the character of the 
jDrevailing winds. California, like India, is exposed to the 
action of a periodical monsoon, blowing from the north- 
west during the summer, and from the south-east during 
the winter. The former wind, cooled by the Arctic current 
w^hich sweeps downward along the coast, precipitates fog 
as it meets with the hot, dry winds of the interior ; and 
the summer, in the valleys of the Coast Range, seems actu- 
ally to be cooler than the winter. In the same manner, 
the dry, warm south-east winds, coming over the vast 
deserts of heated sand on both sides of the Colorado, 
heighten the w^inter temperature. The mean temperature 
of noonday, throughout the year, is remarkably equable, 
for such a latitude. The seasons seem to have shifted their 
parts, the winter being green and fragrant with flowers, 
and the summer brown and bare on the hills, while the 
forests of live oak, bay, red^vood, and pine, rejoice in eter- 
nal verdure. 

A record of temperature has been for nine years carefully 
kept by Dr. Gibbons, at San Francisco. The greatest cold 
in that time was 25*^, and the greatest heat 98°. These 
may, therefore, be taken as the extremes, showing the 
utmost range of the thermometer. The difference is 73°, 
but the average annual range is not more than 65°. In 
Kew York and the New England States, it is near 130°. 
At San Francisco, in 1853, the maximum was 88°, and the 



NEW PICTUEES FKOil CALIFOENIA. 19 7 

minimum 40°. Another peculiarity of the climate is the 
difference between the temperature of day and night. The 
mean daily range varies from 12° to 23°, being least in 
winter and greatest in summer. The nights, therefore, 
throughout the year are of a much more uniform tempera- 
ture than the days — a fact which contributes very greatly 
to the health of the inhabitants, as well as to the vigor of 
vegetation. In the interior, where the heats of summer are 
much more intense than in the coast valleys, the difference 
is still greater. The summer thus possesses a bracing ele- 
ment in the midst of her fiercest fires. California presents 
the anomaly of a semi-tropical climate, with all the inspiring 
and invigorating qualities of a ISTortherR atmosphere. 

In this respect, therefore, our Pacific Coast stands une- 
qualled by any land in the world. It is not without draw- 
backs — for the cold coast-winds of summer, the unfathom- 
able dust of autumn, and the first deluging rains of winter, 
are things to be endured — but no one, except a fool, expects 
to find absolute perfection on this planet. The dry, pure 
air possesses no taint of malaria ; fevers are rare, except in 
a few localities, and the great, world-encircling epidemics 
lose half their violence. The statistics of San Francisco 
show that it is, already, one of the healthiest cities in the 
world. As a place for the development and the enjoyment 
of animal life, I know no land equal to California. 

The peculiarity of the climate, combining great variation 
between day and night — with comparatively little variation 
between winter and summer — seems to be especially favor- 
able to vegetable life ; and this, I suspect, is the main cause 
of those productions which have astonished the world. 



198 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

Something, of course, may be attributed to the virgin vigoi 
of a new soil ; but where this has ah-eady been expended, 
as in the region about Los Angeles, the same results are 
obtained. With the exception of the apple, all fruits, from 
the fig to the pear, from the pomegranate and olive to the 
gooseberry and currant, thrive better than elsewhei'e. 
With regard to grapes, the average annual yield is four- 
teen pounds per vine. When all the vines now planted are 
in bearing condition, they will produce j^ye million gallons 
of wine annually. A more wholesome and delicate spark- 
ling wine is not easily found than that manufactured by the 
Brothers Sansevain, who bid fair to reproduce, on that far 
shore, the famous "Sansovino," the praises of which Redi, 
the Tuscan Bacchus, sang in his dancing verse. Let me 
add a few more specimens of vegetable production to those 
I have already given. The California Register says ; " A 
fig-tree, four years from the cutting, is seventeen inches 
around the stem, twenty feet high, and bears two crops a 
year; a grape-vine, three years old, yields eighty pounds 
of grapes ; a tree, three years old, bears fifty-five apples, 
weighing, on an average, nine ounces each !'' 

The six months during which no rain falls have not the 
usual efiect of a drouth in the Atlantic States. The grain 
is all ripe early in the season, and may be cut, threshed, 
measured^ and sold (all in the open air) jast as the farmer 
can spare time. The hard-baked surface of the earth covers 
a stratum of moister soil, into which the trees thrust their 
roots, and flourish ; and though the velvet turf, which is 
the glory of northern lands, is wanting, yet the blue lupin, 
the orange-colored poppy, and other salamandrine flowers, 



NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 199 

blossom in all the valleys. I saw but one genuine piece of 
turf in California. It was in front of a house in San Jose, 
where it was kept alive and fresh by artificial showers. Its 
dazzling greenness and beauty seemed to be little short of 
a miracle. Trees, when transplanted, require to be care- 
fully watered the first summer, after which, they are gene- 
rally able to supf)ly themselves. Water, which is struck 
everywhere in the valleys, at a depth of twenty or thirty 
feet, is sweet and good. 

So far as scenery is concerned, I can imagine nothing 
lovelier than the valleys of San Jose, Kapa, Russian River, 
and San Ramon. The one feature which they lack — in 
common with the landscapes of Italy and S^jain — is water. 
The streams which traverse them in winter, become dry, 
stony beds in summer, and the matchless trees which adorn 
their banks, have no glass wherein to mirror their beauty. 
In all other respects — color, outline, harmony of forms — 
there is nothing to be desired. Even the great plains of 
Sacramento and San Joaquin are redeemed from tameness 
by the superb framing of the distant mountains on either 
side, and thus are far more beautiful than those dreary, 
interminable prairies of the West, which fatigue the sight 
with their monotony. The scenery of that portion of the 
Sierra IS'evada which I visited is less picturesque and strik- 
ing than that of other mountain-chains of equal height, 
owing to the uniform character of the great slopes between 
the rivers, buttressing the central chain. The two or three 
exceptions to this judgment, are Spartan canon, the 
region about Mokelumne Hill, and Columbia. The valley 
of the Yo-Semite, further south, is the one grand and 



200 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

incomparable feature of the Sierra Nevada. Further 
north, however, the Shasta Peak, Lassen's Butte, and the 
tipper valley of the Sacramento, present a new series 
of magnificent landscapes, forming the proper vestibule 
through which to approach Oregon, with its giant cones of 
solitary snow. 

On the whole, California is a land where life seems to be 
most plastic — where, so far as climate, soil, and scenery are 
concerned, one may shape his existence in the most various 
moulds. Within the range of two hundred miles, he may 
live on th6 mountains, or by the sea — among pines or pome- 
granates — in snow or flowers — ^in the maddest whirl of busi- 
ness, or in dreamy indolence — on the confines of barbarism, 
or the topmost round of civilization. Why not, then, escape 
care, consumption, cold, neuralgia, fashion, bigotry, east- 
winds, gossip, and chilblains, and fly to that happy shore ? 
For one simple reason : It is too neio — too recently fallen 
into the possession of man — too far away from the great 
centres of the world's life — too little touched, as yet, with 
the genial influences of Art and Taste. Life, at present, is 
beautiful there, but lonely ; and so it must remain for an- 
other generation to come. Li the valleys of the Coast 
Kange, Nature is in advance of Man. Gold is yet King — 
though, I think, and hope, q,lready beginning to shake a 
little on his throne. 

Taking into consideration the fact that California was 
settled exclusively by persons in pursuit of wealth, and that 
money-making is, more especially there than elsewhere, the 
main object of life, the character of society is far less cold 
and sordid than might have been expected. Even the 



NEW PICTURES FKOM CALIFORNIA. 201 

wealthy circles, composed of families from all parts of the 
United States, and of all phases of refinement, have less 
pretentiousness and exclusiveness than the same circles in 
Kew York, Philadelphia, or Boston. There is a genial libe- 
rality, courtesy, and heartiness of demeanor, which is as 
refreshing as it is unexpected. A highly cultivated person 
would, undoubtedly, find many agreeable associates in San 
Francisco — though he might miss that vitalizing influence 
which a productive class of authors, artists, and savans 
always imparts to the intellect of a country. These are 
flowers that only grow after all other kinds of growth have 
been in a measure accomplished. 

The influence of the climate has already made its impres- 
sion on the character of the people. They will, in time, 
exhibit the same combination of Northern and Southern 
peculiarities ; and the result, I hope, will be as favorable 
to their moral, as it undoubtedly will be to their physical 
nature. If this should be so— if they should possess an 
equal capacity for action and repose, warmth without fickle- 
ness, principle without coldness, a broad and genial huma- 
nity, earnestness combined with grace and softness, and a 
perception of life's duties in the midst of its sensuous enjoy- 
ments — there Avill at last be a happy American-born race. 
But this is expecting too much. I confess, when I look 
into the vile pit of California politics (holding my nose all 
the time), and note what is the standard of honesty in pub- 
lic aflairs, my hope grows small. It is no worse, I must 
admit, than in the city of IN'ew York — an admission which 
does not better my statement. The home of Literature 
and Art, however, will be in the valleys near the coast — • 

9-^ 



202 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

not among the scarred and tortured hills of gold, where 
official misrule most flourishes. 

The children born in California are certainly a great im- 
provement upon those born among us. Nowhere can more 
rosy specimens of health and beauty be found. Strong- 
limbed, red-blooded, graceful, and as full of happy animal 
life as young fawns, they bid fair to develop into admirable 
types of manhood and womanhood. To them, loving their 
native soil with no acquired love — knowing no associations 
which are not linked with its blue skies and its yellow hills, 
we must look for its proper inhabitants, who will retain all 
that is vigorous, earnest, and generous in the present race, 
rejecting all that is coarse and mean. For myself, in breath- 
ing an air sweeter than that which first caught the honeyed 
words of Plato — in looking upon lovelier vales than those 
of Tempe and the Eurotas — in wandering through a land 
w^hose sentinel peak of Shasta far overtops the Olymj^ian 
throne of Jupiter — I could not but feel that Nature must be 
false to her promise, or Man is not the splendid creature 
he once was, if the Art, and Literature, and Philosophy of 
Ancient Greece are not one day rivalled on this last of in. 
habited shores ! 



III. 

A HOME IN THE THlJKI]SrGIA:N^ FOREST. 



1. — ^Taking Possession. 

July 1, 1861. 
The postillion has driven off down the hill, the letter- 
carrier has brought in the last small bundle, the landlady 
has opened the rooms and initiated us into all the mysteries 
of closets, cupboards, and cellars— and here we are, at home ! 
I herewith take possession of my little study, with its one 
window opening on the mountains, and the writing cabinet, 
(as small and plain as that which Schiller used,) and feel 
myself already lord and master of the cottage and garden, 
and co-proprietor of the lan'dscape. The air is so cold — 
after six days' rain — that we have kindled a firo of pine- 
splints in the great earthenware stove. The fir-clad moun- 
tains are black and lowering, and there is really, just at 
this moment, no very cheerful point in the scenery, unless 
it be the Felsenkeller, a rustic tavern on the ridge beside us. 
where the beer is always of the best. 



204 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

ISTevertheless, the gloom of the evening is counterbalanced 
by our pleasant feelmg of independence — by the knowledge 
that we occupy a house which we can temporarily call our 
own, conducting our housekeeping as we see fit. The 
rooms are neatly but completely furnished ; a little bare, 
perhaps, to an American eye, but we are accustomed to the 
simplicity of German life, and, moreover, our home is rather 
outside than inside the cottage. Still, it is well to know 
that the beds are of fresh linen, that the supply of water is 
ample, and that the cane arm chairs in the drawing-room 
are agreeable to sit upon. A j)eep into the kitchen dis- 
closed the surprising fact that we have butter, eggs, salad, 
and raw Westphalian ham, and as Hanna, the tidy servant- 
girl who awaited our arrival, has already made a fire in the 
ponderous range, I feel that our supper is secure. Let no 
apprehension for the morrow, therefore, disturb our first 
day of possession ! 

Really, this is the ideal of Travel. ISTot in great hotels, 
where one lives according to fixed rules, or pays enormously 
for breaking them — not in capitals, where the levelling 
civilization of our century is fast annihilating social pecu- 
liarities, and establishing, so to speak, a uniform gauge, 
adajjted to all nationalities, can one feel the pulse of a 
foreign life. Men must be studied in their homes, and, 
whenever possible, from a home among them. We must 
find an empty cell in the hive, and inhabit the same, though 
it be in the character of a drone. What the tent — the 
wandering house of the nomad — is to the traveller on the 
Tartar steppes, the furnished summer residence is to the 
stranger in most European countries. But one must not, 



A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 205 

like poor Tom Hood, on the Rhine, be so ignorant of the 
language, as to have a bunch of quills put on the table 
instead of a fowl, nor so wedded to his home habits as to 
make himself unhappy because he cannot retain them. With 
a little human flexibility, a catholic breadth of taste, and an 
entire freedom from the prejudices of the Little Peddlington 
in which most men are born, we may, without sacrificing a 
jot of our individuality, without hazarding the loss of a 
single principle, live the life of other races and other cli- 
mates, and thus gather into our own the aggregate expe- 
rience of Man. 

This is the true HeimsJcringla^ or World-Circle — the 
completed sphere of life on this planet, which he must tra- 
verse who shall write the yet unwritten human Cosmos. 

— This little study, I find, illustrates a truth which is 
known to authors, and to none else : that the range of 
thought is in inverse proportion to the dimensions of the 
material dwelling of the thinker. In other words, the nar- 
rower your chamber, the w4der your brain : hence poets 
seek garrets by a natural instinct, and the philosopher who 
could not sling a cat in his room assuredly never felt the 
need of that diversion. The mental labor which it would 
be difiicult to perform in a spacious Gothic hall, would be 
comparatively easy in a low hut, with one window. K this 
journal should be discursive — of which I have a strong pre- 
sentiment — the reason will be apparent. 

But where is our home ? A familiar spot in a foreign 
land — distant, happily, from any capital, except that of a 
small principality, aside from the highways of tourists, yet 
embosomed in a region of the loveliest scenery, and breath- 



206 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

ing an atmospliere of song and saga. Thiiringia is the 
Heart of Germany, embracing the scattered Saxon Duchies 
of Gotha, Weimar, Meiningen, and Schwarzburg. Its soil 
has not only witnessed the most picturesque episodes of 
mediaeval German history, but is the home of the fairest 
traditions, as, in later years, it has been the chosen home 
of poets. 

In a valley on the northern slope of the mountain-rango 
known as the Thuringian Forest, separated by a low ridgo 
from the Ducal park and castle of Reinhardtsbrunn, lies the 
little city of Friedrichsroda. Although claiming a remotB 
antiquity, like most of the towns hereabout, it was firit 
brought into notice by Frederic Perthes, the pious and suc- 
cessful publisher, of whom you have doubtless heard. Tho 
beauty of the scenery, the purity of the mountain air, and 
its proximity to a number of attractive or historically famous 
localities, gradually drew strangers hither, until the city 
has now become a sort of summer suburb of Berlin. I say 
"the city" intentionally, for, although the place has but 
2,300 inhabitants, I should give offence by calling it a vil- 
lage. There was formerly a sculptured head with wide-open 
mouth, over the gate, recording the fate of a stranger, who, 
on his arrival, asked " what is the name of this village ?" 
He had no sooner said " village,^^ than his jaws became set, 
and his mouth remained open ; nor could he close it until 
he perceived his error. The place was best known in the 
Middle Ages by a malicious song which the jealous inhabit- 
ants of the neighboring towns were accustomed to sing, 
One verse thereof will be sufficient ; 



A H0M:E in the THUKIXGIAN rOEEST. 207 

" Tell me, of what is the church-spire made, 

Oho, in Friedrichsrocla ? 
They took and killed a lean old cow, 
And made the spire of her tail, I trow, 

Oho, in Friedrichsroda!" 

It is nearly nine years since, descending from the heights 
of the Inselsberg, I first saw the quiet, peaceful, pleasant 
little city^ lying in its green valley-basin, with a protecting 
rim of dark forests. I then made some acquaintances 
which, in the course of time, and through the course of 
circumstances, became family connections, and thus it is 
that I now find myself here. Three years ago my friend 
Dr. K. built a summer cottage in his garden, above the 
town, on the ridge between Friedrichsroda and Reinhardts- 
brunn, commanding a charming view of both valleys. This 
cottage I kept in my mind, and was so fortunate as to secure 
it before leaving home, as a httle eddy into which I might 
whirl and rest for a few weeks, out of reach of the roaring 
stream. My predecessor, Dr. Petermann, the distinguished 
geographer, left no inharmonious associations behind him. 
The invisible pictures of Timbuctu, and the White Nile, 
and the Tanganyika Lake, which no doubt cover the blue- 
papered walls of my study, might have floated out of my 
own brain. Palms and crocodiles and hippopotami ! They 
are to me as welcome and as familiar as the stately firs 
which I can see by lifting my head, or the three ravens on 
the grass before my window. 

One only thought disturbs the peace and seclusion of my 
mountain home. I do not need to close my eyes, to see 
that long, imperial street, transformed into an avenue of 



208 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

banners — to see the sudden blossoming of national colors 
from every roof, every churcli-spire, every hilltop — to see 
the " sun-burst" of Freedom spreading southward in a 
mighty arc, slowly driving before it the black cloud of 
tyranny and treachery. I see my noble countrymen, God 
bless them ! creating a race of heroes, refreshing our slow 
commercial blood from the fountains of sublime self-sacrifice 
and purest patriotism ; I wait for the tardy messages which 
reach me across the Atlantic, and with every new instance 
that a great people is thoroughly in earnest, with every 
illustration of bravery, and endurance, and devotion to the 
good cause, I hear a voice saying, like Henry of Navarre : 
" Pends-toi^ hrave Crillon : nous avons comhattu^ et tu rOy 
etois pas .^" My consolation is, that if " they also serve, 
who only stand and wait,'' in the present crisis they who 
are afar from the field of action may yet make themselves 
echoes of the battle-trumpets — interpreters of the war-cries, 
to these millions of European spectators. 

Yes ! Here, at this distance, I see truly the significance 
of the struggle. Here, where, in years past, I have com- 
bated hostile opinions, grappled with tough monarchical 
prejudices, and exhausted myself in endeavois to make our 
political system clear to minds which, otherwise well in- 
structed, had not the least comprehension of its character 
— my present difficulty is, not to show that the rebellion 
should be suppressed, but to show how it could possibly 
have arisen. The fatal imbecility of Buchanan's adminis- 
tration has seriously damaged our prestige abroad: any 
hesitancy, any tampering with treason, any failure on the. 
part of our rulers to press the war boldly and vigorously 



A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 209 

to a conclusion, would complete the mischief. In Europe, 
it is our republican form of government that is on trial. A 
despotic assumption of power would injure us far less, in 
the present instance, than an exhibition of weakness. As 
an orthodox believer in self-government, my constant pray- 
er is : " God preseiwe us from the shame, the ineradicable 
infamy of Peace on any other terms than the unconditional 
submission of the traitors !" 



The postman has returned Avith a manuscript-book, in 
which we are required to write our names. At the same 
time he is authorized to receive " contributions," which go 
into a common fund for the preservation of the forest-paths, 
of the numerous benches, or "rests'' as they are called, and 
for newspapers for the reading-room. The latter institution, 
I have discovered, is no other than the aforesaid Felsen- 
keller, where one can read Tlie Cologne and The National 
Gazette^ it is true, but is expected to drink a mug of beer 
at the same time. As for the paths and benches, there is 
no part of the world where the convenience of strangers is 
so carefully consulted, as here. The entire mountain-region, 
fifty miles in extent, resembles a private park, traversed by 
macadamized highways, gravelled foot-paths, and with com- 
fortable benches or even arbors at every possible point where 
the scenery offers any attraction for the eye. Fancy the 
White Mountain group civilized in a similar manner ! This 
is ISTature stripped of her paint and feathers, washed, and 
her nakedness decently covered. You may admire the 
strength and primitive rudeness of the savage, but you 



210 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

better love the tamed domestic creature who sympathizes 
with yom- calm, cheerful, or reflective mood, walks by your 
side with ordered step, and can sit down with you, quietly, 
in the sweet, rosy silence of the long summer evening. 



2. — ^HoTT WE Spent the Foueth. 

July 4th — Evening. 

On awaking this morning, I became aware of an unusual 
sound of hammering about the cottage. A mysterious 
whispering between the two servant-maids in the passage 
also attracted, my attention. I went into the salon, which 
opens upon the veranda, and was surprised to find two 
long ladders reared in front of the glass-doors. Dr. K. 
standing on the grass-plot, under an ajDple-tree, appeared 
to be gazing steadfastly at the roof. As we found the 
house in admirable condition, I was curious to ascertain 
what repairs or improvements he had in view. There were 
two men on the ladders, employed in fixing the last clamp 
to a flag-staff which rose from the apex of the gable. Just 
then, a breeze came down from the mountains and blew 
out the folds of — an American flag! Yes — our national 
banner, although it contained but six stripes ; for the good 
Dr., in his anxiety to give me at once a surprise and a 
welcome on this day of all days, had been more kind than 
correct. But the stars were all there. The vrhole thirty- 
four glittered in the blue field, in defiance of secession or 
compromise ; and thus the first American flag which ever 



A nOilE IN THE TIliJEINGIAN FOREST. 211 

waved above the Thiiringian Forest was no symbol of a 
divided Union ! How^ brightly the red stripes shone against 
the background of the firs! How the stars seemed to 
lighten and sparkle in the morning sun ! 

To-day, it occurs to me, is the pivot on which our politi- 
cal balance turns. As the men who this day meet in 
Washington shall decide, shall Honor or Disgrace, Weak- 
ness or Strength, prevail. I am so far away that the 
involuntary conflict of hope and fear is worse than useless, 
and before these words can reach America, the doubt will 
either be dissolved in hopeful confidence, or deepened into 
desperation. This much is certain : the path of Honor, of 
Duty, of Patriotism is plain — there is but one. Woe to 
the Republic, if that path be not followed ! 

— The weather, thus far, has not been propitious for our 
contemplated mountain walks. Unhappily, after a fort- 
night of splendid weather, it rained last week, on the day 
of the Seven Sleepers ! This, in German weather-prophecy, 
denoted rain every day for seven weeks thereafter ; and, this 
year, the rule seems likely to hold good. The sun rises in 
cloudless splendor, but by seven o'clock the sky is overcast : 
heavy bluish-gray clouds drag along the mountain-tops : 
distant thunder is heard, and presently a hard shower 
comes driving from the West. In half an hour the sky is 
blue, the meadows sparkle, and snowy masses of cumuli 
topple over the forests. We rejoice at the prospect of a 
lovely afternoon, and straightway plan an excursion to one 
of the legendary spots in the neighborhood. Perhaps we 
are already under way, enjoying the warmth and sunshine, 
heedless of an ominous blackness which is gathering behind 



212 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the Evil Mountain — evil, indeed, to ns! — until, suddenly, 
the sun vanishes, and a far-off rustle among the woods 
announces the inevitable fate. 

It is singular how shght a degree of heat suffices to 
provoke a thunder-shower in this region. Even to an 
American, accustomed to sudden changes of temperature, 
the continual vibrations of the thermometer are far from 
agreeable. Two or three hours of sunshine, at 80°, and 
you see the gray vails of showers on the horizon. Then 
the air is suddenly cooled for a time, but becomes close and 
sultry again as soon as the breeze falls. The latitude 
(nearly 51°) is partly accountable for these vagaries, yet 
I attribute them principally to the fact that the spine of the 
Thiiringian forest, which is only about three miles above 
us, divides two weather systems, which occasionally over- 
lap each other. It is difficult to realize that less rain falls 
here annually than in our Middle States, and I am inclined 
to suspect that the comparison was based on the estimate 
of a single year, which did not represent the normal average. 
In the chronicles of the country there are accounts of years 
in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, when so much 
rain fell that the harvests were destroyed, and thousands 
of persons died of hunger and of a pestilence engendered 
by the rotten grain. On the other hand, it is true that the 
streams which issue from these mountains are remarkably 
small, and but slightly swollen after heavy rains. The deep 
bed of spongy moss which forms the floor of the forests, 
holds much of the moisture, and perhaps accounts for both 
facts. 

An atmospheric phenomenon, scarcely known to us, is of 



A HOME IX THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 213 

frequent occurrence here. It is called the cloud-hurst^ a 
term which describes its character. The clouds, heavily 
laden, and balled or rolled together by the wind, suddenly 
break doicn under their combined burden, and discharge a 
deluge of water, which often occasions immense damage 
to the fields and herds. Where the burst takes place at 
the head of a narrow valley, an instantaneous flood is 
formed, from ten to twenty feet in depth, uprooting trees 
and sweeping houses from their foundations. A few weeks 
ago the town of Skohlen, not far from Jena, was visited 
by one of these cloud-bursts, whereby thirteen persons 
were drowned and more than twenty buildings destroyed. 
In countries which have not yet been denuded of their 
forests, such a phenomenon is less likely to occur. Rich- 
ardson describes a cloud-burst which overwhelmed his 
camp at Tin-tellust, on the frontier of Asben, in the Sahara, 
and our trappers can tell of others on the plains. 

Hail-storms are so frequent and so destructive in ]N'orth- 
ern Germany, that the prudent farmer always insures his 
grain in the Hail Insurance Company — a regular branch of 
the insurance business. The hail-cloud is recognized at a 
distance by the hard, cold, yellowish-white color of its 
dropping curtain. Its upper edges are often of a pale 
brownish hue. Even when it passes by at a distance, it 
chills the atmosphere far and wide, as an iceberg chills the 
sea-air. 

This morning dawned so brightly, and the scattered 
clouds hung so lazily around the bottom of the sky, that 
we felt tolerably sure of a favorable day for our private 
festival. At ten o'clock the postillion's horn announced 



214 AT IIOilE AND ABROAD. 

the approach of our friends, and the post-chaise slowly 
climbed the hill, and discharged its cargo of four ladies, 
two gentlemen, one child, and a supply of meat and drink, 
at our door. There were cordial greetings, for we had 
been separated three days, and those whose hospitality w^e 
had so often enjoyed — or rather claimed as a right — were 
now for the first time our guests. To honor them, as well 
as the day, I had sent to the landlord at Reinhardtsbrunn 
and ordered six pounds of trout, fresh from the tank. 
I also secured a supply of the nobler German beverage, as 
was meet, and therewith my duties ended. 

Our guests took eager possession of the veranda and 
garden ; the children first embraced and then pulled each 
other's hair, and thus the festive machinery was put in 
motion. In Germany one does not need to go around 
with a conversational oil-pot and grease the individual cogs 
and cranks ; the wheels turn as soon as they touch. It is 
as easy as rolling a snow-ball down a steep hill. The least 
impetus is sufficient. The ball increases in volume as well 
as in swiftness, and the only danger is in attempting to 
stop it. This, of course, where the material is not too 
composite ; though, even in this respect, you can safely 
combine more various elements than in any other society 
I know of. 

In England, a successful dinner-party is the result of 
consummate art. The social ingredients are as carefully 
measured and mixed as in a sauce or a salad. The oil of 
Mr. A. is secured to neutralize the vinegar of Mr. B. 
The Misses X. are the chickens, those promising young 
gentlemen the lettuce, rich Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so the 



A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 215 

lobster, and somebody else the mustard. The host is 
usually the spoon. Here, I am glad to say, there is more 
nature and less calculation. Repellant substances are 
avoided, of course, but the attractive quality of the social 
atoms is much greater. Another advantage — ^it is a part 
of German politeness to talJc. A " wall-flower" or a 
" dummy" is the rarest apparition. Johanna Kinkel, with 
a good deal of truth, calls the habitual silence of many 
really intelligent English-women a laziness of the jaws. 
Such persons have no scruple in shirking their share of 
social duty. They find it less trouble to look on and listen, 
caring not that their silence becomes a rock, against which 
the flow of social feeling is turned aside. Who does not 
know how one moody individual may obstruct the sunshine 
of a whole company of cheerfully-attuned persons ? Soci- 
ety, while ofiering enjoyment of the higjiest character, 
imposes a corresponding obligation — a fact which many 
honest and worthy people seem not to recognize. 

In the German language there is no epithet which exactly 
translates our word hore^ or its intensification, vampyre. 
The nearest approach to it, " lemsieder^'' means, literally, 
" a boiler of glue," and applies especially to a man who 
takes you by the button-hole. This fact, alone, indicates a 
more correct social culture — at least, so far as the social 
duties are concerned. There is no society without its 
faults, which have their root in faults of national character. 
Of these I shall speak at another time. Let me now 
return to the Fourth of July. 

There was no reading of the Declaration of Independence, 
for the very good reason that we have no copy thereof 



216 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

Neither was there an oration portraying the greatness and 
glory of Our Country, because it has yet to be demon- 
strated, by the last and severest test, that our country is 
truly great and glorious. On this day of this yCar, 1861, 
orations are out of place. But a divided family, united 
for the first time in three years, took their places at the 
round table, and when the trout and the roast-beef (quite 
as much an American as an English reminiscence) had 
disappeared, a young German spoke thus: "Seeing that 
we, whose hopes and labors are directed toward the esta- 
blishment of German unity and nationality, cannot be 
indifferent to the preservation of the American Union, 
which is in many respects the realization of our own political 
ideas — seeing that so many of our countrymen have become 
American citizens, and that a thousand ties of blood and 
friendship unite us — seeing, moreover, that in the present 
struggle we recognize a conflict between Barbarism and 
Civilization, between Anarchy and Order, let us drink to 
the success of the Defenders of the Union, and the triumph 
of the Good Cause !" 

We all rose and drank the toast standing, and the silvery 
clinking of the glasses was like a peal of distant bells, 
ringing in the (let us hope) not distant day of our national 
redemption. 

After one of the inevitable showers, the day again 
became bright and balmy. Our arm-chairs were trans- 
ferred to the shadow of an apple-tree on the little lawn, 
and while the younger ladies indulged in a somewhat 
irregular game of ball, we enjoyed anew the beauty of 
the landscajoe in the- enjoyment of our friends. At our 



A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 217 

feet lay Friedrichsroda, its tiled roofs crowded together in 
a long line through the middle of the valley. The slopes 
on either side, divided into narrow strips of grain, varying 
in growth and color, are evenly covered, as with a ribbed 
velvet carpet, above which, dark and grand, stand the fii 
forests. At the bottom of the valley, facing us, is the 
Badger Mountain, rising square against the sunny blue and 
gold of the distant hiUs. Southward, wooded to the 
summit, stands the Kernberg, divided by a shady glen from 
the Praise-God {Gottloh) — a conical hill, from the western 
slope of which rise shattered pillars of basalt, the topmost 
crowned with a rustic temple. Between the Praise-God 
and the Wolf's-steep opens a deep mountain valley, gloom- 
ing purple with its forests. On the other side we see the 
profile of the Abbot's Mountain, green with beeches, over- 
looking Keinhardtsbrunn, and behind it the Evil Mountain, 
whence comes all our weather-woe. Groups of summer 
guests are constantly threading the lanes, or climbing to 
the benches disposed along the heights, and the three asses 
in the town are always in requisition to carry children or 
female invalids. Women pass us, laden with basket-loads 
of hay from the meadows, or fir-twigs from the hills ; the 
men work among their turnip and potato fields ; carriages 
rattle along the highways, and every morning and evening 
we hear the multitudinous chime of the cow-bells, as the 
herds are driven out to their pastures. The landscape, 
with all its beauty, is full of life, which is the greatest 
beauty of all. 
The evening came, and with it the postillion, blowmg : 



10 



218 AT HOME AND AUROAD. 

" A rose in his hat, and a staff in his hand, 
The pilgrim must wander from land unto land; 
Through many a city, o'er many a plain, 
But ahl he must leave them, must -wander again!" 

And so it was with our friends. The grandfathei must 
back to his telescoj^e and the new comet : there were 
household duties for the women — exj)ected relatives from 
afar : each was bound by some one of the strands which 
go to make up the thread of life. And, after they had 
left, I took up this, my own particular strand, which having 
spun to this length, I now leave until I receive a fresh 
supply of material — silk, or flax, or spider-gossamer — any- 
thing but Cotton ! 



3. REINHAEDTSBEUira-, AtTD ITS LeGEKD. 

.TULT 6, 1861. 

Within a mile of our cottage is the castle of Reinhardts- 
brunn, one of the summer residences of Ernest II., the 
reigning Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. As a specimen of 
landscape gardening, the surrounding park is unsurpassed 
by any similar spot on the Continent. The castle is built 
on the ruins of a former Benedictine monastery, which 
owed its foundation to one of the most romantic passages 
of Thtiringian history. The first landgrave of Thiiringia 
was Ludwig the Bearded, who, in the first half of the 
eleventh century, built the castle of Schauenburg, (just 
beyond the Wolf-steep, and almost visible from my window,) 
and made himself master of all the region round about. 



A HOME IN THE THURIXGIAN FC«IEST. 219 

His eldest son Ludwig succeeded to the title and posses- 
sions. The latter was a stalwart, handsome fellow, and it 
is perhaps comprehensible that Adelheid, wife of the Count 
Palatinate of Weissenburg, should have loved him, in pre- 
ference to her husband. Unfortunately for both, the 
]3assion was mutual, and a quarrel, purposely brought on, 
resulted in the death of the Count Palatinate, at the hands 
of his wife's lover. 

A year afterwards the guilty pair were wedded, but the 
matter having come to the ears of the Emperor, Henry 
IV., he ordered the landgrave to be arrested. The latter 
refused to obey the mandate, but was finally taken by 
stratagem and confined in the fortress of Giebichenstein, 
near Halle. Here he remained two years and eight months, 
waiting for trial. (Justice appears to have been as slow, 
if not as blind a divinity, then, as now !) Finally, weary 
of the long confinement, he pretended to be mortally sick, 
and was allowed to see a servant who was to bear his last 
message to his wife. The servant, however, received 
orders to bring the landgrave's white horse. The Swan, to 
the meadow below the castle, on a certain day. When the 
time arrived, the landgrave, who continually complained 
of cold and was wrapped in thick mantles, tottered to the 
window as if to take a last look at the sun. The six 
knights who guarded him were absorbed in a game of 
chess. The castle was built on a rock, overhanging the 
river Saale. The prisoner, with a cry of " Holy Virgin 
Mary, save thy servant!" leaped from the window. The 
mantles spread out, broke the force of the fall, and he 
descended safely a hundred feet into the water. A fishing- 



220 « AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

boat, purposely in waiting, picked him up, and in a few 
minutes afterwards he was on the back of the Swan, 
speeding homewards. 

For this daring feat he received the name of Ludwig the 
Leaper, by which he is still known in German history. 

Notwithstanding the matter was finally compromised, 
and the landgrave allowed to retain his possessions, neither 
he nor his wife was happy. They had conscience enough 
to be troubled by the remembrance of their crime ; and so 
it happened once, on a Good Friday, that Adelheid placed 
dishes of fowl and game before her husband. Whereupon, 
he marvelling that she should expect him to sin in this 
manner, she answered : " Should this sin be worth consider- 
ing, in comparison with that other sin whereof we have 
not yet repented ?" Both wept, and consulted as to what 
penance was proper. The result was a journey to Rome. 
Tlie Pope promised them complete absolution, provided 
the landgrave should build and richly endow a monastery, 
and his wife, in like manner, establish a nunnery. The 
former returned to his home in the Schauenburg, and 
busied himself with the choice of a site, but for a long 
time found himself unable to decide upon one. 

His attention was finally directed to the neighboring 
valley, where, deep in the forest, lived a potter named 
Reinhardt. There, beside a strong fountain which gushed 
from the earth, this potter saw, at night, two lights like 
candles, which disappeared whenever he approached them. 
The landgrave, having himself witnessed the phenomenon, 
accepted it as a sign from above, and founded the stately 
monastery of Reinhardtsbrunn on the site of the potter's 



A HOME IN THE THUEIXGIAN FOREST. 221 

humble cottage. This was in the year 1089, according to 
the chronicles, but more probably in 1098. A few years 
afterwards, Ludwig the Leaper became a monk, and 
remained in the monastery until his death, in 1123. 

The place was completely ransacked and destroyed 
during the Baiiernkrieg^ or Peasants' War, and remained 
a ruin until the accession of Ernest I. of Coburg (father 
of the present Duke) to the sovereignty of Saxe-Gotha. 
This prince removed the tottering walls of the old monas- 
tery and built a summer palace on the foundations. The 
material used was a warm gray sandstone, found in the neigh- 
boring mountain, and -the style that domestic Gothic which 
harmonizes so exquisitely with the forms of a ISTorthern 
landscape. The old Duke also restored the monkish fish- 
ponds, and completely remodelled the gardens, woods, and 
meadows, but with a sparing and beautifying, not a des- 
troying hand. In this respect, his taste was admirable. 
He appreciated scenery with the intuition of an artist, and 
knew where to prune, and where to plant, so as to attain 
that ideal grace and loveliness which Nature, unassisted, 
can never reach. 

There ought to be some better name for this faculty 
and its exercise. "Landscape gardening" is both incon- 
gruous and incomplete. The German expression, "Art- 
gardener," is better ; but the idea of a garden is too limited, 
when the artist's plan embraces the landscape to its furthest 
horizon. In his eyes, all its features are, to a certain 
extent, plastic. That which he cannot change or remove, 
he can throw into perspective, or so conceal by the inter- 
vention of other forms, that its individual ugliness shall 



222 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

become a component part of the general beauty. To con- 
tracted spaces he can impart a character of expansion; 
dead levels he breaks by picturesque interruptions ; he 
works not alone for the eye, but excites the fancy by stolen 
glimpses which hint at some concealed charm. He collects 
the wandering rills, and opens a mirrored under-sky, to 
brighten the too uniform green ; he arranges his trees with 
regard to their forms and tints, to the lights they catch 
and the shadows they cast, until they stand as far in 
beauty above the uncultured woods as the pediment-groups 
of Grecian temples are above a group of ordinary men. 
He sees, like the sculptor, the suggestions of Nature, and 
pilfers the graces of a hundred forms to blend them 
harmoniously in one ideal. Should not this JEarth-sculp- 
ture have its place among the Fine Arts ? 

The park, or garden-park, of Reinhardtsbrunn (for it is 
neither alone, but a combination of the two) is an almost 
perfect illustration of the art. The lower ridges of the 
Querberg and Reinhardtsberg, thrust out at right angles to 
the axis of the Thtiringian Forest, inclose it on either side, 
and the lofty Abbot's Mountain, a part of the main chain, 
fills up the intervening space. Northward, the brook, fed 
by its ponds, flows toward the plain through a narrow, 
falling glen. The castle, with its picturesque confusion of 
towers, Gothic gables, and quaint out-buildings, stands 
near the foot of Reinhardtsberg, on an irregular, natural 
terrace, sloping toward the water on two sides. The land- 
scape visible therefrom has a length of two miles and a 
half, with an average breadth of three-quarters of a mile. 
Though not wholly included in the park, it is subjected tc 



» A HOilE IX THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 223 

the artist's will, to the very summits of the mountains, and 
the transitions from fir-forest and meadow to the shelvy 
terraces of roses and verbenas, from evergreen to decidu- 
ous trees, from ivied castle and gravelled avenues to the 
seclusion of bowery foot-paths and the sun-sprinkled 
shade of the woods, are so skilfully managed that you fail 
to distinguish the boundaries. You see but one rich, 
harmonious, many-featured, enchanting picture. 

In the forms and colors of the trees, and their disposition 
with regard to each other and to the character of their 
background, we detect that art which never appears as art 
— never can offend, because it is developed through the 
ordinary processes of Nature. Plant a tree, and it will 
take, of itself, its own characteristic form. [NTature, how- 
ever, can simply produce ; she cannot combine and arrange. 
She will not plant yonder weeping-ash on the slope, so that 
its outer boughs shall just touch the water : she will not 
rear those purple beeches to relieve the huge green masses 
of the ancient lindens, nor give the silver birch an airy 
lightness and distinctness by a background of pine. She 
plants weeds among the flowers and ripple-grass in the 
turf, muffles the brook with autumn leaves, and fills the 
pond with sickly water-mosses. 

Here there is nothing of that. She is kept clean and 
healthy by a regimen which simply aims at developing her 
highest beauty. There seems to be, verily, a joyous con- 
sciousness thereof in the trees and flowers. Nowhere 
stunted, nowhere deformed, they give to the summer the 
deepest tints, the richest undulations of foliage. The sun- 
beams touch them with a softer splendor, and their shadows 



224 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

have a clearer purple or violet than elsewhere. In the late 
afternoon, when golden breaks of light stream down the 
long meadows, between the cloudlike gloom of the forests, 
turning the turf to fiery velvet, smiting the lakes and the 
red-and- white flag on the floating skiff"; when the banks 
of flowers burn with blinding color, and the venerable firs 
of the Reinhardtsberg take the hue of bronze, and the 
wooded glen beyond swims in hazy shadow, it is the land 
scape of a brighter planet, a transfigured earth. 

At the bottom of the valley, where it contracts into the 
glen, there is a spacious inn, which has a wide renown for 
its good though somewhat expensive cheer. At all hours of 
the day, unless the rain is unusually hard, the out-door tables 
and benches, under the shelter of the firs, are frequented 
by visitors from all parts of the Thtiringian Forest. We 
sometimes go thither for tea, and find it difficult to obtain 
places among the crowd. The fat waiter, and his two 
juvenile assistants, go back and forth with empty or foam- 
ing beer-glasses, sausages, black bread, raw ham, fermented 
cheese, cucumbers, salted sardines, or trout and potatoes. 
The German supper usually consists of some of these 
articles, each of which has a positive flavor. The cheese, 
even in the open air, must frequently be covered with a 
glass bell, on account of its powerful odor of decomposi- 
tion. It seems to improve in digestible quality, however, 
in proportion as it becomes insuflTerable to the nostrils. 
Beer is the unvarying masculine beverage. The ladies 
drink tea, or a mixture of beer, water, sugar, and black 
bread, which is called " 7nicsic !^^ It is a very weak har- 
mony indeed. 



A HOME IN THE THUKIXGIAN FOREST. 225 

It is singular that, with their fondness for the open air, 
the Germans should have such a dread of " draughts," in 
houses and railway-carriages. Doors and windows are 
closed as soon as there is a motion in the air. On entering 
a shop, on a warm day, you are generally told "Pray, 
put your hat on: you are warm." Nay, this goes so far 
that by many intelligent persons (hereabouts at least) colds 
are considered contagious. Possibly, one cause of such a 
physical sensitiveness is the difference of temperature be- 
tween the sun and shade, which is more marked in a North- 
ern latitude. Prof. Bergfalk, of Upsala, told me that 
during his first summer in America he lived in great dread 
of the draughts to which he was exposed, until he found 
that his health did not suffer. On returning to Sweden, 
however, he resumed his former sensitiveness. 

— ^It is impossible to write more this evening, while the 
sunset beckons from the mountains, — especially w^hen my 
household, bonneted and shawled, is beckoning also. I am 
not hard to move, for I prefer the outer to the inner air, 
the reality to the description. So, here is the last ink I 
shall shed to-day. Rest, you weary steel, that are not 
always mightier than the sword ! 



4. — ^The First German Shooting- Match. 

July 12, 1861. 
Here is already a considerable gap in my journal, and 
the reader, referring to his own experience, may suspect 
that my undertaking is beginning to flag. Only the most 

10^ 



226 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

ultra-methodical minds ^ are capable of noting down their 
" thoughts, feelings, &c." (as the school-girls say) day after 
day, whether or no there is anything to note. For my 
part, having so many a dies non to record, I have never 
been able to hold out longer than two months, except upon 
my journeys abroad. I was recently very much amused at 
finding, among some old papers, a journal conscientiously 
commenced at the age of ten, to be continued thenceforth 
indefinitely; but on the eighth day the entry stood — "wea- 
ther cloudy, and I find it impossible to keep a journal !" 

After all, I presume the true explanation is, that a jour- 
nal, to be really worth anything to the writer thereof, must 
be a confessional in the broadest sense of the word — a record 
of weakness and error, as well as of good deeds or good 
resolutions. Everybody agrees that the true history of one 
life would be worth all the romances ever written, yet no- 
body writes the whole truth, even for his own eyes, lest 
other eyes should accidentally get sight of it. In Stifter's 
story of the " Fortress of Fools," the heads of the family, 
in a direct line, write their own secret biography, which 
each one j)laces in a rock-heivn chamber, whereto he only 
possesses the key — which, with the obligation to continue 
the history, he transmits to his son. The result is, in the 
course of a few centuries, a race of madmen. There are 
few eyes steady enough to look on the absolute Truth — few 
hands bold enough to lift the last veil from the image in the 
temple of Sais. 

I, however, w^hose journal is personal only so far ;>s I am 
connected with scenes and subjects which may interest my 
friendly readers, am not troubled by these considerations. 



A HOME IX THE THURINGIAX FOREST. 227 

The simple fact is, we have all been absent for the past four 
days, attending a Pan-Germanic festival in the neighboring 
city. The great popular movement which now prevails, 
from the Alps to the Baltic, has for its basis the idea uf 
N"ational Unity. It is singular to note how unsteadily the 
political balance is held in the hands of nations. As the 
scale rises in one hemisphere, it sinks in the other. Here, 
where in spite of the jealousies, the hostilities even, of a 
thousand years, in spite of differences of character, cus- 
toms, dialects, ideas, institutions, and creeds, there is an 
earnest desire to kindle a spirit of patriotism which shall 
rise above all narrower distinctions, and lay the foundation 
of one great and homogeneous empire : while, across the 
Atlantic, the same principle is violently assailed, and the 
Nation's blood and treasure must be spent to prove that 
she is a nation, in fact. The miserable divisions from which 
Italy is being healed, which Germany is leaving behind her 
by sounder and safer paths than she chose in '48, which 
even the Slavic and Scandinavian races are seeking to avoid, 
are now racking our political frame. Is this a disease from 
which our land can only be freed, by communicating it to 
another ? 

Gotha had been excited, for wrecks in advance, by the 
anticipation of the Convention of German Riflemen, which 
was appointed to meet on the 8th. As this was the first 
convention of the kind which embraced all Germany, and 
had therefore a political significance, there was much fear 
that the little city would not be able to hold all her guests. 
She resolved, at least, that they should be worthily enter- 
tained, and her citizens (with the exception of the nobility, 



228 AT HOME AND ABllOAD. 

who, for the most part, stood sullenly aloof,) spared neither 
pains nor expense. Hundreds of houses were opened for 
the strangers ; flags were made, wreaths woven, triumphal 
arches built, and prizes, by scores, contributed for the vic- 
tors. Silver goblets came from the Duke and Duchess, the 
Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia, Prince Albert, and 
the Free Cities ; rifles and revolvers ; sets of silver spoons, 
cases of wine, gold watches, embroidered gun-belts and 
game-bags, shoes, meerschaum pipes, cigars, portfolios, 
cushions, books and statuettes ; and even the children's 
schools in the neighborhood brought together their pfen- 
nings to buy some trifle which should represent their inter- 
est in the festival. 

It was pleasant to witness this universal sympathy with 
a movement which, however indirect its j)olitical influence 
might be, was at least directly attacked by the Reactionary 
Party, and therefore, to that extent, a political expression. 
I rejoiced with my German friends, not only for the sake 
of Germany, but because the least progress anywhere helps 
Progress everywhere. During the whole of last week the 
weather was Avatched with great anxiety, and every addi- 
tional shower was welcomed, since it lessened the proba- 
bility of continued rain, in spite of the Seven Sleepers. 
Even when Sunday came, and dark thunder-clouds, rising 
in the West, took their way to the Thuringian Forest or the 
distant Hartz, they said " let it rain !" The companies of 
riflemen who were to arrive would have a wet reception, it 
was true, but better that than have the grand procession on 
the morrow spoiled by a storm. 

As this procession was to be organized at seven in the 



A HOME IN THE THUEIXGIAN FOREST. 229 

morning, we drove over to Gotha in the afternoon, during 
an interregnum of sunshine between two storms. The trees 
of Reinhardtsbrunn sparkled with unshed rain-drops.; the 
Horsel Mountain (the home of the minstrel Tannhauser) 
stood out, bare and yellow as a mountain of Palestine against 
the dark sky ; and in the village of Wahlwinkel the wife- 
stork, standing up in her nest, was drying her wet wings in 
the sun. Ah ! here is at once the entrance to another 
digression : but no ! I will avoid the by-path, pastoral and 
pleasant though it be, and follow the highway of my nar- 
rative. I will return to the storks to-morrow. 

From afar, over the trees, the old banner of the German 
Empire — black, red, and gold, in horizontal bars — waved a 
welcome. It is not ten years since these colors were pro- 
hibited in almost every part of Germany. As we entered 
the suburbs, the colors of Saxony (green and white) 
and Thiiringia (red and white) floated from every house, 
subordinate, however, to the all-embracing national flag. 
The streets leading to the railroad-station, whence came 
the sound of music, were crowded with riflemen, hurrying 
down to welcome expected corps from abroad. On reach- 
ing our family home, we found the gentlemen sporting 
badges of white satin, and Fraulein Hildegarde trying on 
her wreath of oak-leaves before the looking-glass. She was 
one of a hundred maidens who, thus crowned, in white 
dresses, with scarfs of red, black, and gold, were to take 
part in the procession. 

Presently we hear the yelling of two locomotives, which 
come slowly up the grade from the direction of Weimar, 
drawing twelve cars. We make for an arbor, overlooking 



230 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the main avenue, up which the strangers must march. 
Trumpets blow, the people rush past, the thunders rattle, 
out goes the sunshine and down comes the rain ! "We hud- 
dle together in the leafy house, which affords but shght 
protection against the driving sheets of water. But in half 
an hour the sun follows, and a double rainbow, complete 
and magnificent, arches above the Seeberg. The trumpets 
blow again, the target-men in scarlet caps and shirts tramp 
by with the baggage, the hacks, garlanded with flowers, 
follow, and then the riflemen with their escort, cheerfully 
keeping step on the muddy road. The banners and the 
crowds of spectators are their only welcome. There is no 
shouting — no waving of hats. The Germans have not yet 
learned that. They have been kept silent so long that they 
have not the full use of their voices. 

In the morning, we set out betimes for the market-square 
in the centre of the city, where the procession was to form. 
I had the honor of escorting Hildegarde, in her oak-wreath 
and scarf. From under the linden boughs of the park two 
other German maidens sprang out to meet us, and the three 
formed a vanguard, before which the crowd fell back and 
made us a passage. The market-square lies on the northern 
side of the steep hill, crowned by the castle of Friedenstein. 
Approaching it from the top, we looked down, as into an 
arena, filled with waving flags and moving masses of men, 
and sprinkled all over with glittering points of color. The 
gray old council-hall, in the centre, thrust a flag from every 
window, and shook its pendant wreaths of oak-leaves in the 
wind. The fountain was hidden in a pyramid of birch- 
boughs, and daring young peasants clung to every " coign 



A HOME IX THE THURINGIAN FOEEST. 231 

of vantage" offered by its layers of basins. In the micIdlG 
of an open space, kept clear by gensd'armes, the chief 
marshal was riding to and fro, while his aids stationed the 
different deputations of riflemen at their posts, ready to 
fall in at the proper time. The crowd, thousands in num- 
ber, looked on in silence. 

We descended into the square, broke through the guard- 
ed space, and took leave of our maidens at the door of the 
council-hall, where ninety-seven others were waiting for 
them. On all sides waved the flags of the various German 
States — the black and white of Prussia; blue and silver of 
Bavaria ; red and yellow of Baden ; fortress in a red field, 
of Hamburg ; the Saxon and Thtiringian colors ; the tri- 
color of Schleswig-Holstein ; the cross of Switzerland — and, 
over all, the symbol of strength and unity, the red, black, 
and gold. What was my delight, at seeing from a corner 
of the square, the stars and stripes of America ! — singu- 
larly enough, the only foreign power thus represented. 
Every house was hung with garlands — principally of the 
German oak, looped up with knots of roses, and disposed in 
an infinite variety of forms, but in every instance with excel- 
lent taste. The general effect was exceedingly beautiful. 

The streets through which the procession was to pass, 
Avere similarly decorated. Occasionally the wreaths were 
of fir, with gilded cones as pendants, or with rosettes of 
forget-me-nots and harebells. Even in these details there 
was a national significance. You may be sure, whenever a 
German is sufiiciently advanced to express himself by 
means of outward symbols, he always puts an idea behind 
them. 



232 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

We followed the path of the procession to the outskirts 
of the city, where, in the house of the architect S., hospi- 
table windows had been offered to us. I continued my 
walk to the shooting-hall and target-stands, around which 
a court of show-booths had already sprung up. There was 
a menagerie, in front of which, as an attractive sign, a live 
pelican was perched on a high post. I did not wonder 
that the bird yawned terribly. There was also an " Art- 
Cabinet," with " Anatomical Specimens" — the " Harbor of 
Fortune," where you either won a penny plaything by 
firing off a pop-gun, or lost your penny — " Live Bushmen 
from Africa," and two carrousels^ or flying-horses for 
children. In spite of my satin badge, I was refused admit- 
tance into the shooting-grounds before the arrival of the 
procession, and contented myself with admiring the tri- 
umphal entrance, the work of my friends S. and S. The 
square gateway was composed of the shields of German 
States, set in frames of fir-twigs, while on either side two 
lofty masts, spirally wreathed to the summit, lifted high in 
air their crowns of banners. From the centre of the arch 
floated the colors of the German empire. Really, I could 
find no fault with the structure. From end to end it was 
arranged with admirable taste, and the moral I drew there- 
from was this : " why cannot our officials or committees, 
on such occasions, emj)loy artists and architects as well ? 
Why can't we put round men into round holes ?" 

Boom ! went the cannon from the castle, announcing 
that the procession had started. All the church-bells began 
to chime, a circumstance whereat the few Reactionists in . 
Gotha were deeply shocked. The road was already lined 



A HOME IN THE THUPJXGIAN FOREST. 233 

with expectant crowds, who filled the banks on either side, 
while the central space was kept clear by mounted gens- 
d'armes. On my return to our friends at the window I 
met the Duke, already on his way to the shooting-ground. 
He was driving a span of dun-colored horses, with black 
manes and tails, and with such a skilful hand that I have no 
doubt many of the strangers supposed he was the coach- 
man. I took off my hat to the gay, clear-eyed, galUard 
Prince, whom I had recently had occasion to know and to 
honor, as a man. For him, it was a well-deserved day of 
triumph. 

Next to the house of our friend S. was another American 
flag of silk, floating from a wreathed staff. I also took off 
my hat as I passed it. Everybody knew it, and looked 
upon it with a friendly eye. Suppose it had been the Vir- 
ginia coat-of-arms or even the New York " Excelsior ? " 
It would probably have been torn down as an abortion — a 
counterfeit of nationality — even granting that any person 
had known what it meant. State pride ! State fealty para- 
mount ! what wicked nonsense passes for wisdom in some 
parts of our favored Republic! However, there is not 
much likelihood that the starveling Palmetto itself would 
have been recognized, for in these inland European cities 
the people know but little about national symbols. In the 
garden opposite our window there was a banner of Schles- 
wig-Holstein (red, blue and white, horizontal), which the 
Turners — who ought to have known better — were on the 
point of tearing down, supposing it to be that of France ! 

A blast of trumpets — a stretching of the necks of the 
crowd — an increasing murmur, and the procession comes ! 



234 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

It is a double display, for the Turners of Thiiringia hold 
their convention in Gotha at the same time, and have 
joined their forces to those of the riflemen. The former 
first appear, preceded by music, and graced by the pre- 
sence of a second hundred of maidens in white, with 
wreaths of white flowers and rose-colored scarfs. Our 
friend E., as Grand Marshal, rides in advance, and his baton 
bends us a solemn greeting. Then come the Turners. Ah ! 
here is some sign of life, but not from the spectators. 
They are simply silent and curious. The various deputa- 
tions greet our ladies with genuine cheers ; mild, indeed, 
but well meant. Handkerchiefs flourish acknowledgment. 
Students in velvet caps wave their swords, banners dip, 
and the trumpets blow 2, fanfaron^ as they pass. Hurrah ! 
hurrah ! I should like to shout, but there is no one to join 
me. Young, gallant fellows, in gray linen, they can do 
something else besides spring over bars and climb ladders, 
hand over hand. 

M. counts the maidens, who seem to be portioned off as 
angelic escorts to the standard-bearers, to the hundredth. 
Now come the riflemen ! The band plays " Schleswig- 
Holstein, sea-surrounded," as they pass the tri-colored flag. 
I wish they knew the Star-Spangled Banner, but they 
don't. Here is Hildegarde, in the van, shaking her bou- 
quet at our window. The tall brother follows, in a white 
sash. Then, company after company of riflemen, in plain 
gray or blue fatigue uniform, but preceded by oflicers in 
astonishing costume. Who are these in green and gold, 
with such plumed chapeaux, such excessive epaulets, such 
length of sword ? Generals ? Field-Marshals ? you ask. 



A HOME IN THE THUEIXGIAN FOREST. 235 

By no means, my friend : they are not even soldiers. It is 
some relief to know that the vanity of seeing oneself in 
" fall regimentals " is not confined to our militia officers at 
home. Some of the banners, however, tattered and rid- 
dled in former wars, were genuine. The number of per- 
sons in the procession is certainly over two thousand, and 
the spectators number at least twenty thousand. It is not 
a large affair, compared with some of our political gather- 
ings, but in point of order, taste, harmony, and effect, I 
have never seen it surpassed. 

The presence of the two hundred maidens was decidedly 
the most pleasing feature of the display — to the eye, at 
least. The flowing lines of the white robes, the soft gleam 
of the colored scarfs, and the bright flush of the girlish 
faces, wound like a thread of grace and beauty through 
the long files of the men. Here, again, one recognizes the 
artistic sense, if not the direct arrangement of an artist. 

Another lesson of the festival was afforded by the per- 
fect order preserved by the spectators, thousands of whom 
were peasants from the surrounding country. The very 
freedom which was allowed was in itself a guarantee of 
order — a fact which the Continental governments are slow 
to learn. 

But — ^here is the end of the procession, and of to-day's 
chapter. 



233 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 



5. — The Same, Continued. 



July 13, 1861. 
First — To resume the interrupted narrative : — 
After the procession had passed, we descended from our 
windows and followed in the rear, designing to enter the 
inclosure in season to hear the Duke's address of welcome, 
and the song, " The German Tri-color," to which he had 
himself composed the music. But, on reaching the gate- 
way, we were informed, " Ladies cannot be admitted at 
present." This portion of the party, supposing it to he a 
j)recautionary measure, on account of the crowd, returned, 
and I entered in company with a Russian relative. To my 
surprise, there was ample sj^ace within, and the prohibition 
was a gratuitous rudeness. By this time the address had 
been delivered, and the strains of the song were swallowed 
up in the noise of the multitude. 

The Duke's speech occupied about four minutes in deli- 
very. I know some persons who, under similar circum- 
stances, would not have let us off under three-quarters of 
an hour. After referring to that new direction of the 
popular ideas which had called forth the festival, he said, 
in a firm, decided tone : -*' Strength and skill shall to-day 
unite in emulation for prizes, in order that the individual, 
elevated by the consciousness of his own value, may become 
more valuable to the entire people. The chief aim of these 
mutual endeavors should be the protection of the great 
German Fatherland, and the preservation of its honor. 
With such feelino^s let us reach to one another the fraternal 



A HOME IN TJETE THURINGIAN FOREST. 237 

hand !" Many of the riflemen from abroad, who were 
accustomed to see theu' own rulers surrounded by the most 
rigid ceremonials, were astonished at the manly simplicity 
for which Ernest 11. is distinguished. It was amusing to 
hear their remarks : " Why, he took off his hat to us !" 
" He wears a plain citizen's dress — not even a star on his 
breast !" " Ah, that's the right sort of a Prince I" 

Two riflemen who were quartered in our residence were 
loud in their expressions of delight. " Why," said one of 
them, " it's really comical to see yoqr Duke !" " Why so ?" 
I asked — not knowing that " comical," in his dialect, ex- 
pressed the highest admiration. " You see," he said, " I 
once had the honor of standing before our King. Ah, ha ! 
bow down, and be silent: don't you recognize the divi- 
nity ? But here — he's a man, like ourselves — yes, actually 
a human being ! He walks, and talks, and lets the sun 
shine without his perniission. Why, there was a gentleman 
in a hunting-coat with him, who joked and clapped him on 
the shoulder, and he took it all like a hon camarade.'''' We 
were obliged to laugh at this description of our worthy 
B., whose connexion with us the speaker did not guess. 

The shooting, which was to continue four days, imme- 
diately commenced. There were thirteen hundred rifle- 
men in all, and but twenty targets, and the pressure for 
a chance was very great. The shooting-stand was a spa- 
cious pavilion, erected for the purpose, on the western 
side of which were twenty stalls, numbered to correspond 
with the targets. The latter were also named, in the order 
of rank ; the first, to which the highest prizes were attached, 
being '' Germany," the second " Duke Ernest,'' the third 



238 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

" Thuringia," and the fourth " Schleswig-Holstein." After- 
wards came the German rivers, and then the representative 
men, among whom Humboldt, Fichte, and Arndt had a 
place. The distance was four hundred feet for ten of the 
targets, and two hundred and fifty feet for the remaining 
ten. The manner of shooting w^as divided into three 
classes, arranged so that all should apply to both the dis- 
tances : First, shooting " with free hand," without rest or 
aid of any kind; second, with the use of the diopter, 
or sight-gauge ; and lastly, with rests. These technical 
arrangements were a great worry to the committee, w^ho 
were obliged to take into consideration such a variety of 
habits and preferences among the riflemen. It must be 
admitted, however, that they performed their work with 
great tact, and to the satisfaction of the guests. 

The cracking of rifles became more and more frequent, 
and soon rattled, like scattering volleys, from one end of 
the pavilion to the other. I w^as interested in noticing 
the arrangement of the targets. Each was double, and 
turned on a pivot midway between the two, so that when 
one was up the other was down, and concealed from sight 
in a pit, in which the attendant sat. His duty was, when- 
ever a shot was fired, to turn the axle, thus bringing the 
target down to note the shot, while he elevated the other 
for a fresh one. The shots w^ere carefully registered, and 
the record sent back to the pavilion from time to time, in 
a bag attached to a travelling rope. It is a lucky circum- 
stance that none of the attendants were shot during the 
festival. Once, indeed, there was a slight alarm. One of 
the targets having failed to revolve, the firing was sus- 



A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 239 

pended, and the pit examined, when the man was found 
lying fast asleep at the bottom ! It is no less an illustra- 
tion of the care and method native to the German charac- 
ter, that although thirty-five thousand shots, in all, were 
fired, no accident of any kind occurred. 

I was invited to take part in the trial, but as my rifle- 
practice is very limited, and I was the only representative 
of a country famous for sharp-shooters, I judged that I 
could best preserve our reputation by declining. I had an 
opportunity of doing some service, nevertheless, by explain- 
ing the character of the rebellion against the Federal author- 
ity, for there was no lack of eager questioners and sympa- 
thetic listeners. 

Wandering about through the crowd, I fell in with Dr. 
Petermann, the geographer, who had left his maps to swell 
the crowd of those who wish to abrogate geographical dis_ 
tinctions. His first question, also, was in relation to our 
American difficulty. I Avas midway in a statement when 
we were joined by Gustav Freytag, the author of "Debit 
and Credit," and one of the clearest thinkers in Germany. 
" What do the people of the Free States think of the strug- 
gle ?" he asked. " They see now that it is inevitable," I 
answered. " Furthermore, the general impression is, that 
it must have come, some time, and better now than later. 
When I left, the feeling was that of relief, almost of satis- 
faction." Freytag is one of those men with whom it is a 
l^leasure to talk, as well as to hear. His brain is warm and 
vital, and seeks and assimilates, instead of repelling, warmth 
in others. 

In another group I found the artists Jacobs and Gurlitt, 



240 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

with both of whom I established a freemasonry of interest, 
in our reminiscences of Greece. The " Temple of Gifts'' 
attached to the shooting-hall had, as one of its pediments, 
a striking pictm'e from the pencil of the former. It repre- 
sented Germany, crowned with oak, leaning on her sword 
and offering a wreath to the victor. The other pediment, 
by Professor Schneider, illustrated the (just now more than 
ever) popular legend of the slumbering Barbarossa. The 
old Emperor sits in the vaults of the Kyffhauser, with his 
red beard grown to his feet, while the ravens fly around his 
head. So long as they fly, the enchantment binds him : the 
hour of his awaking has not yet come. But, on either side, 
in the lower caverns, the mountain-gnomes are busy, forg- 
ing swords, casting bullets and hammering the locks of 
guns. Barbarossa symbolizes the German Unity. I should 
have represented him, however, if not in the act of awak- 
ing, as starting in his sleep, at least. To complete the alle- 
gory, one of the ravens should be double-headed, with yel- 
low wings (Austria) ; the second wearing the papal tiara 
and with the keys of St. Peter in his claws ; and the third, 
with a spiked helmet, representing, not Prussia, but that 
combination of pride and obstinacy which distinguishes the 
mihtary profession in Germany. 

By this time other pavilions than those of the riflemen, 
were crowded with visitors. Beside one of these I counted, 
at eleven o'clock in the morning, thirteen empty beer-bar- 
rels ! The Turners, grouped together at tables under the 
trees, sang in chorus ; the bands played ; and outside of the 
inclosure you could hear the voices of showmen, crying : 
" This way, Gentlemen : here is the wonderful and astonish- 



A HOME IN THE THURINGIAIN^ FOREST. 241 

ing,'' etc. I strayed down thitherward, where thousands of 
peasants were looking and listening with open mouths and 
eyes. The family of Bushmen from Africa attracted me, 
and I entered the booth. A young fellow, with loud voice 
and eyes fixed on vacancy, performed the part of lecturer 
and interpreter. " Here, your Lordships !" he cried, " I 
will show you the wild people of Africa, the only specimens 
in Europe. I will first call them. You cannot understand 
their language, but I will translate for you. Tath imang- 
JcoJco !"" " Nya — a — a — a .^" answered a voice behind the 
curtain. " Kilibu-ha-'bingo .^" he repeated ; " that means, 
I told them to come out." Thereupon appeared a little old 
woman, with a yellow skin, and an immense bushy head of 
hair, followed by a girl of eighteen, ditto. Bushmen they 
were not, nor Africans : very likely ordinary gypsies, dyed 
and frizzled. " Marino-horhibhlee-hoo j'" he commanded ; 
" I told them to sing." And sing they did, or rather scream. 
*' Your lordships," said the showman, who looked enough 
like the old woman to be her son, " they want money to 
buy raw flesh, which is their food." The girl took up a 
collection, in a cocoa-nut shell. " Your lordships," he con- 
tinued, " if you have cigars, or pipes, or tobacco, they 
would like to have them." The peasants winked at each 
other, as much as to say " we've had enough of this," and 
left in a body, I following. 

In the afternoon the Turners had a grand performance, 
followed by a ball at the Theatre, in the evening. As all 
w^earers of badges had the right of entrance, we deter- 
mined to go thither as spectators. But here the order, 
which had characterized the festival, failed. The building 

11 



242 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

was open on all sides, to every one. There were no door- 
keepers, n® managers, and from the back of the stage to 
the top of the gallery, the space was crammed to suffoca- 
tion with a mixed multitude, varying in costume from the 
most elegant ball-toilet to the shabby dress of the street- 
loafer. We made our escape as soon as possible, strongly 
impressed with the inconsistency of shutting out ladies from 
the ceremonies of the morning and admitting the unwashed 
to the festivities of the evening. 

At a subsequent visit to the shooting-stand I encountered 
B. who said to me : " Have you seen Auerbach ?" Berth- 
old Auerbach here ! W. and I immediately set out in 
search of him, although our chance of success seemed slight 
indeed. But before we had made our first round through 
the crowd, I espied a pair of familiar broad shoulders, in 
the middle of which, on a short neck, was planted a sturdy 
head. Without more ado I gave the shoulders a heaity 
slap, whereupon the head turned with an air of resentment 
which immediately resolved itself into friendly surprise. 
The genial author of " Village Stories'' and "Little Bare- 
foot'' joined us, but was so constantly hailed by friends and 
admirers that we soon lost him again. I learned, however, 
that he has another story in press, called Edelweiss — the 
name of an Alpine flower. 

At the dinner of riflemen, on the same day, at which the 
Duke presided, one of the guests gave the following toast : 
"Let us not forget, on this occasion, our brethren across the 
Atlantic, who are also proving their fidelity to the sentiment 
of Unity, who are engaged in upholding the cause of Law 
and Order. Success to the Germans who are fighting the 



A HOME IX THE THURINGIAX FOREST. 243 

battles of the Union, in America !" This was received Avitli 
a storm of applause, the whole company rising to their 
feet. 

At the close of the Convention, De Leuw of Diisseldorf 
was declared to be the first shot, and Dorner of i^uremberg 
the second. Besides the contributed prizies, four hundred 
in number, there were additional prizes in money, and the 
lucky first dozen of sharp-shooters received several hui^dred 
dollars apiece, together with their silver goblets and spoons. 



6. — Ernest of Cobueg. 

Now that the smoke of the thirty-five thousand shots 
has cleared away, the guests have departed, the oak-wreath 
withered, the banners rolled up for the next time, and the 
first National Convention of German Riflemen declared to 
be a great success, we may already begin to calculate its 
direct results. In the popular estimation it stands for more 
than it really is, and, therefore, is more than it seems. 

Mere expertness with the rifle is a simple art, and the 
various corps of shooters might develop their skill to an 
equal extent without leaving home. But the eclat given to 
that skill by a public trial at which all Germany looks on — 
the wide renown, the rich rewards which await the victors 
— tend directly to make these volunteer associations 
popular, and to greatly increase their number and effici- 
ency. Again, behind this consideration lies the idea of 
making the German people strong for their own defence, of 



244 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

bringing them together from the remotest states, and pro- 
moting a spirit of unity, a harmony of interests and of 
aims, in spite of political divisions. Not in vain has the 
lesson of Italy been studied here. The people at last 
understand that they must be a Pjeople, divided by no 
provincial jealousies, animated by no narrow aims, before 
Germany can be the one powerful consolidated Empire, 
which is their political dream. 

In the Convention at Gotha, as well as in the Singers* 
Festival, to be held in Nuremberg (and at which five thou- 
sand participants are already announced), this is the deep, 
underlying idea. The N'ationdl-Yerein (National- Associ- 
ation), which was established in 1859, and already numbers 
between twenty and thirty thousand members, has for its 
object the union of all the scattered elements of Progress 
in an organized body, which shall work for the same end. 
After long wanderings hither and thither ; after many a 
chase of ignes-fatui through the swamj^s of Red Republic- 
anism, Communism, and Socialism, the Liberal Party in 
Germany has at last found its rational and proper path. 
There is no longer a Republican, but a wise, enlightened 
National Party, against whose growing strength the reac- 
tion is beaten back on every side. 

Not the least important of the circumstances which have 
contributed to the success of the Convention is the fact that 
the party possesses a leader who not only enjoys an 
unbounded popularity among the masses, but, being him- 
self a reigning Prince, is at once a guarantee of its charac- 
ter for his fellow-rulers, and a shield for itself against their 
forcible opposition. This leader is Ernest II., Duke of 



A HOME IN THE THURIXGIAN FOREST. 245 

Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, whom we best know in America as 
the elder brother of Prince Albert of England, while iu 
Germany the latter is best known as the yomiger brother 
of the Duke. The Reactionists — especially the Junker- 
thum^ or Squirearchy, as the reactionary nobility are called 
— charge Ernest II. with being a demagogue ; with heading 
the popular movement merely for the sake of gratifying a 
hollow ambition : but they cannot deny that his course has 
been thoroughly consistent from the beginning, and that 
he remained true to the cause, in spite of the earnest 
remonstrances of his royal relatives, at a time when it 
seemed to be utterly crushed. If he is simply cunning, 
and not sincere, as they affirm, it is that nobler cunning 
which foresees the inevitable course of events, and rides 
on the top wave of the flood which it cannot stay. 

Certainly since the Schleswig-Holstein war, in which he 
commanded the battery at Eckernfiord, whereby the 
Danish frigate Christian VIII. was destroyed, no German 
Prince has been so popular with the people as Ernest II. 
During the last two years this popularity has taken a much 
wider and deeper significance. In 1859 he not only wel- 
comed the establishment of the National- Yerein, but when 
the I^ree City of Frankfort refused to allow its members 
to meet in convention there, invited them at once to 
Coburg. A month ago the Legislative Assembly of the 
Duchy, at his recommendation, concluded a military con- 
vention with Prussia, whereby the useless little army of 
the State is consolidated into that of the greater power — a 
practical step toward unity. And now, by his indefatigable 
labors as President of the Convention of Riflemen, by his 



246 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

plain, cordial bearing, his conciliatory patience and kindness 
in adjusting disputes and jealousies among the guests, and, 
more than all, by his earnest, patriotic utterances, he has 
sprung to a height of poj^ularity which might make giddy 
a head less clear and cool than his. 

On the last day of the Convention, when the members 
assembled in the hall, the Duke made a short address, 
recommending the formation of a permanent union of 
volunteer rifle-corps throughout all Germany, not only for 
the purpose of uniting upon normal regulations in regard 
to the exercises, but also to arm and discipline the young 
men, so that they may finally constitute a reserve for the 
regular army. " The time to create a sensation by words 
alone,'' said he, " is past. The people demand action, for 
the sake of their strength and unity. I hear of dangers 
which threaten our Fatherland; but a people is beyond 
danger as soon as it is truly united, truly strong.'' The 
proposal was unanimously adopted. A plain-spoken doubt- 
er, however, during the day, ventured to approach the 
Duke and to say : " Your Highness, your words were 
noble and patriotic ; but will you stand by them ?" The 
Duke answered, good-humoredly clapping the speaker on 
the shoulder, " My friend, all that I have heretofore 
promised I have performed ; I think you may safely confide 
in me this time." 

I had recently the honor of a long personal interview 
with Ernest II., from which I came away with a most 
agreeable impression of his character and talents. I had 
previously been presented to him during the visit of Prince 
-All)ert to Gotha, three years ago, and was then struck by 



A nOilE IN THE THDRINGIAN FOREST. 247 

his fi-ee, off-hand, animated demeanor, which offered a 
marked contrast to the somewhat reserved and haughty 
bearing of his younger brother. On my w^ay through 
Coburg to the Franconian Switzerland a month ago, I ex- 
pressed a wish, through a friend in the Ministry, to wait upon 
him at the castle of Callenberg, near that city — his residence 
in the early summer. The permission was at once given, and 
wdth a cordiality which relieved me from any fear of intrusion. 

On alighting from the train at the Coburg station, I was 
accosted by a personage in a white cravat, who, after 
satisfying himself as to my identity, announced, "His 
Highness -expects you to dinner, at the Callenberg, at seven 
o'clock this evening.'' Then probably suspecting that an 
American might be unfamiliar with the requirements of 
costume, he added, in a w^hisj^er, " You only need a black 
cravat and a dress-coat." I satisfied his mind on that score, 
and we proceeded together to the hotel. He took the 
further precaution of ordering the carriage, in order that I 
might be punctual ; but I was already aw^are that punctuality 
is a necessary virtue of princes. 

The evening was delicious, and the drive of three miles 
was a cheerful ante-chamber, through which to enter 
pleasant society. (There are few European courts which 
can be thus designated.) The old fortress of Coburg, 
where Luther w^rote, " Our Lord^ He is a Tower of 
Strength^'''' stood golden in the sun, and long shadows lay 
across the meadow^s of Rosenau. A mild breeze, hay- 
scented, blew over the hills, and frosted the poplars with 
the silver of their upturned leaves. 

The Duke's valet, a stout African, met me at the 



248 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

entrance, and conducted me to an upper terrace — a lovely, 
shaded spot, planted with flowers in rococo patterns, with 
a fountain in the centre. The castle completely covers the 
sharp summit of the mountain, and is visible far and 'svide. 
I was about entering, when I was confronted by a tall, 
stately gentleman, who bowed with appropriate gravity. 
One of the lackeys, seeing that I did not recognize him, 
introduced him, with ready tact, as " The Oherhofmarshall 
(Chamberlain) von ." This personage courteously con- 
ducted me around the terrace and pointed out the beauties 
of the landscape. I had been upon the Callenberg years 
before, but had never seen it in the splendor of summer. 

There is scarcely a more exquisite situation in Germany. 
It differs from Reinhardtsbrunn as a mountain differs from 
a valley, depending more on the natural characteristics of 
the view than on the artistic development of ISTature. It is 
high enough to command a wide and grand panorama, yet 
not so high as to lose the sentiment and expression of the 
different features. Each angle of the parapet gives you a 
new landscape. There is, first, the valley of Coburg, 
crowned by its hill and fortress ; then a broad mountain of 
dark firs, all else shut out from view ; then a vision of 
England — hedge-row trees, green lawns, clumps of oak, 
and w^ater; and, finally, a rich plain, stretching away to 
the west, where the volcanic peaks of the Gleichberge rise 
against the sky. The trees on the hill itself are superb, 
and the castle on the summit so thoroughly harmonizes 
with the scenery that it seems the natural crowning expres- 
sion of the whole. 

Presently the Duke's Adjutant, Herr von Renter, 



A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 249 

arrived, in company with his wife and sister, to all of whom 
I was presented in due form. The Adjutant was a slight, 
gentlemanly person, with an air of refinement and intelli- 
gence ; the ladies handsome and graceful, and simply, but 
very elegantly, dressed. Scarcely had we exchanged a 
few commonplaces, when the Duke and Duchess came out 
upon the terrace. The Chamberlain immediately presented 
me to the latter. She was the Princess Alexandrina, of 
Baden, a sister of the reigning Grand-Duke. Of medium 
height, a full rather than plump figure, with blonde hair, 
blue eyes, and a quiet, almost retiring, simplicity of manner, 
I could readily understand the affectionate regard in which 
she is held by the people. Her kindness of heart is evident 
to any one who looks on her face. 

The Duke then advanced and addressed me very cor- 
dially. He has but a slight family resemblance to Prince 
Albert, than whom he appears younger, although two years 
older. His features are not so regularly chiselled as those 
of his brother, who is certainly one of the handsomest 
men in Europe, but far more animated and expressive. 
He is about five feet ten inches in height, slender, but 
perfectly symmetrical, and quick and elastic in his move- 
ments. His face is a fine oval, the forehead expansive at 
the temples, and the eyes a clear, splendid hazel. His nose 
is rather long, but not prominent, the lips firm and sharply 
cut, while a mustache and short, pointed beard increase their 
character of decision. It is a mediaeval rather than a 
modern head — such as might have belonged to that Ernest 
who was carried off by the robber-knight, Kunz von Kauf 
ungen, and who was his own ancestor in a direct line. He 

11* 



250 AT HOME AND A13K0AD. 

is passionately fond of hunting, riding, driving, and all 
other out djor diversions, of which taste his tanned face 
and hands gave evidence. 

He took me off to the parapet and began to comment on 
the landscape ; but in a few minutes dinner was announced, 
and we rejoined the company. The etiquette observed 
was very simple. The Duke and Duchess took the lead, 
I, as a stranger, following — -in advance of the ladies, to my 
surprise — and the Chamberlain brought up the rear. The 
princely pair were first served, of course, but this was the 
only formality observed. There was a free, unrestramed 
flow of conversation, in which all took part, and the 
subject was naturally varied, without waiting for the Ruler 
to give the cue. The Duke, it is true, was the leader, not 
from his position, but from natural right. I cannot judge 
of the depth, but I can testify to the great extent of his 
acquirements. He has, at least, the mental qualities of 
attraction and assimilatiooi^ which are not the least import- 
ant concomitants of genius. With an admirable memory 
and a vital interest in every field of knowledge, there are 
few subjects upon which he cannot converse brilliantly. 
Quick, animated, sparkling, he provokes the electricity of 
those with whom he comes in contact. His greatest aver- 
sion, I should think, would be a dull person. Perhaps this 
is the reason why there is so little love lost between him 
and the nobility. He would rather talk with an intelligent 
burgher than a stupid baron. 

The Duke has talents which, if he were not a duke, 
might have made him eminent in various ways. He is the 
luthor of a work on the Schleswig-Holstein war, and the 



A HOilE IX THE TIIURINGIAX FOREST. 251 

composer of five operas, two of which — " Santa Chiara" 
and " Diane de Solanges" — have attained a certain popular- 
ity. I have never had an opportunity of hearing either. 
As an amateur player he is said to be admirable. Yet, 
-with all these brilliant qualities, he is steady, prudent, and 
clear-headed — ambitious, no doubt, but intelligently so. It 
is no damage to his future that his enemies are nobles and 
princes, and his friends the people. 

After dinner, which lasted about an hour, we went upon 
the terrace for coffee and cigars. The Duke called ray 
attention to a small but thrifty specimen of the Sequoia^ 
or California tree, and inquired particularly about the soil 
in which it grew, the temperature it could endure, etc., as 
he was anxious to acclimate it completely. He then invited 
me to a corner of the parapet, looking down on the love- 
liest w^oods, where our conversation soon became entirely 
frank and unreserved. He expressed his political views 
without the least reticence, and thereby instituted — what 
he probably desired — a similar frankness on my part. In 
fact, I ceased to remember that I was addressing a reigning 
Prince, and he had the full advantage of such forgetfulness. 
I have not the right to repeat this conversation, but I wdll 
venture to give one remark in evidence. In speaking of a 
certain crowned head, the Duke said : " He has one rare 
quality. He hears, patiently, views which are directly 
opposed to his own, turns them over in his mind, and, if he 
finds them good, adopts them, frankly acknowledging that he 
was wrong.'' " An admirable quality !" said I : "it would 
be a blessing to Europe if all her rulers possessed it." Tc 
which he assented most heartily. 



252 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

His last political step — the account which he has ren 
dered to the German people of his position as ruler — is, in 
its boldness and candor, a new apparition, and marks the 
downfall of a fossilized conventionalism in politics. As 
this expression undoubtedly was suggested by the results 
of the national-shooting match, I quote its manly conclu- 
sion : " The popular mind resembles the swelling, swift- 
advancing current of a river. To dam it, to delay it in its 
course, is a fruitless undertaking. The waves rise foaming 
aloft, and sweep every barrier away with them. Patriots 
and princes should therefore be inspired by the same 
endeavor, to keep the flood pure in its forward movement, 
and restrain it within its proper banks. In order to accom- 
plish this, the active sympathy of the people themselves is 
necessary. They should not stand aloof from the men 
whose duty it is to hold the reins of government. It is to 
be condemned, indeed, when one struggles for popularity, 
in the universally-accepted sense of the word, and makes 
himself artificially popular, regardless of the work in his 
hands. But it is equally wrong to suppose that without 
the warm sympathy of the jDeople — therefore, without 
popularity in its truer sense — patriotic men can benefi- 
cently exercise the leadership of the masses. The people 
must, therefore, honor the names of their leaders, them- 
selves protect them from aspersion, and should never lose 
sight of the fact that mutual confidence is inseparable from 
mutual charity and consideration.'' 

In regard to our American difiiculties, the Duke expressed 
himself as earnestly as I could have desired. He doubted, 
however, whether the rebels would hold the field, aftei 



A HOME IN THE THURrXGIAN FOREST. 253 

ascertaining the immense force which the Federal Govern- 
ment could bring against them. I explained that resistance, 
even against such odds, was but a part of that enormous 
Southern vanity which did not seem to be appreciated by 
European spectators of the struggle ; but he evidently 
disbelieved in a vanity so at variance with common sense. 

At ten o'clock there was a movement of departure. 
The Duke shook hands with a friendly " au revoir /^^ and 
I followed the Chamberlain, Adjutant, and ladies to the 
carriages. Independently of the interest connected with 
the principal personage, I had passed, socially, a most 
delightful evening, and returned to Coburg with the 
agreeable conviction that some Princes can be men as well. 

— This chapter is what Jean Paul calls an " Extra-Leaf," 
interpolated into the regular course of my journal. It is 
l^ossible that in the future developments of German history 
Ernest 11., of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, will occupy an important 
place, and my readers will then thank me fov having made 
them, to this extent, acquainted with him. 



V. — Storks and Authors. 

July 15, 1861. 
After four days of such agreeable excitement as the 
Festival in Gotha had given, it was nevertheless with 
renewed satisfaction that we returned to our cottage in the 
mountains. We did not even wait for the closing fire- 
works, (the illumination of Constantinople in the night of 



254 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

Bairam having spoiled us for all inferior displays,) but 
started at sunset, leaving tlie banners and trumpets behind 
us, for the welcome gloom and stillness of the Forest. 

The carriage rolled rapidly, in the soft glow of evening, 
over the familiar road. Past the old quarries of red sand- 
stone, past the "Mad Dog," a noted "beer-locality," 
through the little village of Sundhausen, and then out on the 
rich, undulating plain. To the left lay the Boxberg, a low, 
wooded hill, where I had enjoyed family pic-nics years ago, 
and frightened the German children with an imitation of 
the cry of the American wild-cat; and far to the right, 
purple in the twilight, the haunted Horsel. By and bye, 
as the dusk fell, we reached Wahlwinkel (Election-corner), 
but the little one who should have sent the wife-stork a 
greeting, as she sat on her nest, was sound asleep. The 
stork looked down, and nodded, as much as to say : " Ah 
ha! Is that the little one I brought from Egypt three 
years ago ? How she's grown !" 

And straightway, in the dusk, opened a gate into Fable- 
land. I saw not only the Osiride pillars of rosy sandstone 
m the halls of Karnak, but the pass-word of that magic 
which unites the divided Palm and Pine, was whispered 
in my ear. " What are you doing here ?" said the stork, 
as she clapped her bill from her nest on the chimney ; " I 
saw you once, under the palms of Luxor. The brown 
inare is dead, and Hassan is blind of an eye, and Teffaha, 
who danced by torch-light — oh, I saw it, through a hole in 
the temple-roof! — went away long ago; but the sphinx 
says to me every winter, ' Have you seen him ? will he come 
back soon ?' and I answer : ' He'll come — be sure of that I 



A HOME IN THE THUKIXGIAN FOEEST. 255 

I saw him sitting on the steps of the Parthenon, as I flew 
over with the lotus-bud in my bill. He was looking across 
the sea and the sand.' " I gave the stork a message m the 
same language ; but what the message was, you must ask 
the sphinx at Luxor, and I don't believe she will tell you. 

Incredulous readers may doubt my knowledge of the 
stork-language, and, to justify my assertion, I must give 
them proofs of the higher intelligence which this bird pos- 
sesses. In Germany he is sacred ; and he knows it. Ihave 
seen him walking in the crowded street of a city, with as 
much gravity and composure as if he had black pantaloons 
on his red legs and an umbrella under his wing. He builds 
his nest only on house-tops, and comes back regularly to 
the same spot from his yearly journeys to Africa. He is 
a faithful provider for his family, irreproachable in his 
connubial relations, and of a Spartan strictness of discipline. 
He does not associate with other birds — unless, perhaps, 
with the Ibis, whose aristocracy is of about as old a date 
as his own. Staid, constant, thrifty, conscientious, he sets 
an example on the top of the house to the family under 
him, and is therefore fastidious in his selection of a resi- 
dence. 

Moreover, the stork is the only bird that regularly 'pays 
rent. During the first year of his residence, he plucks out 
a stout feather from his wing, and casts it down. The 
second year, his payment is an Q^^^ and the third, a young 
bird. He would be highly offended, if the payment should 
be returned. While he is very devoted in his attach- 
ment to his mate, he requires an equal devotion from her, 
and forgives no departure from the strict line of duty 



256 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

A person once perpetrated the cruel joke of taking a 
stork's egg out of the nest while the parents were absent, 
and putting a goose's egg in its place. When the brood 
was hatched out, the astonishment of the male and the 
dismay of the female bird were without bounds. The 
former presently flew off and summoned a council of his 
fellow-storks, who, after examining the unfortunate gosling, 
pronounced a verdict of " Guilty !" and thereupon pierced 
the innocent female to death wdth their sharp bills. 

A curious case of a different character occurred last 
summer, in Holstein. A male-stork, well-known to the 
inhabitants, reached his summer home at the usual time, 
unaccompanied by his mate. He repaired and re-lined his 
nest, like a careful husband : still, the wife did not come. 
He became sad, then restless, and finally, taking a sudden 
resolution, brought home a blushing young stork-bride 
from a neighboring colony. The household was now hap- 
pily formed, and everything went on as usual, until, a 
week afterwards, the old wife suddenly made her appear- 
ance. Her anger, the alarm of the younger female, and 
the embarrassment of the husband, were so expressive, 
that the spectators at once understood the situation. 
After the first confusion was over, calmer explanations 
followed. The difficulty was dispassionately considered, 
and the result was, that all three set to work the next day 
to enlarge the nest, and the reconciled wives hatched out 
a double brood of young. Here are two additional facts 
for the use of those who maintain that animals can not only 
express their feelings, but relate narratives and discuss 
questions. For my part I once heard a lengthened conver 



A HOME IN THE THUEIXGIAN FOREST. 257 

sation (which the attending circumstances made perfectly 
intelligible to me) between two crows. 

It was quite dark as we entered the glen, leading to 
Reinhardtsbrunn, and the postillion's horn breathed forth 
only slow, lamenting melodies, the notes of which wan- 
dered far away under the trees, as if seeking an outlet to 
the starlight. Our cottage glimmered on the height, as 
we approached, and the flag flapped in the night- wind, 
saying: " All's well !" The house-maid, Hanna, had heard 
the horn, and stood already at the door, with a candle in 
her hand. Verily, the place already possessed an atmo- 
sphere of home. 

The next day, I rested from the past excitements, enjoy- 
ing Gray's highest idea of earthly happiness. That is, it 
was rainy, and I read a novel, which gave me a new and 
interesting insight into a particular field of German litera- 
ture. In England, the three-volume novel is the fashion- 
able form : in Germany, of late years, it is the nine-volume 
novel ! If a mystical luck is connected with the number 
three, why, three times three is of course a double assur- 
ance. The work in question is Gutzkow's "Knights of 
the Mind" {Bitter vom Geiste\ which I should call 2i> pano- 
ramic novel, since it seems to embrace the whole circle 
of the philosophies, the sciences and the passions. Still, in 
spite of the undoubted genius w^hich it displays, I am 
inclined to think that there is a little too much of it. 
Here, I have gotten through with three volumes, or nearly 
fifteen hundred pages, and the action has advanced but 
eight days since the commencement ! The fourth volumCj 
upon which I am now engaged, is wholly taken up witt 



258 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the Iransactions of a single evening. At this rate, if the 
author's plan had extended over a year, we should have 
had a hundred volumes, instead of nine. Gutzkow has 
recently published a second novel, " The Wizard of Rome,'' 
also in nine volumes. One is tempted to ask : " Why 
7iine .^" In literature as in painting, it is not the immense 
frescoes that are the greatest pictures. Gutzkow is a fine 
artist, but he takes too large a canvas. 

It occurs to me that in this manner a popular novelist 
might, with a little cunning, secure to himself employment 
for life, and a permanent income. Let him first announce 
a work in five or gix volumes, to be published at intervals 
of three months. At the end of the first year, having 
obtained from twenty to fifty thousand readers, he could 
state that the exigencies of his plot required him to add 
half a dozen more volumes. After having led his readers 
thus through four or five years, the simple fact of their 
having already read so much^ would secure them for the 
rest of his life. The work would have the same attraction 
as a lottery, each consecutive volume promising to be the 
prize (that is, the conclusion,) — and, in spite of fifty 
blanks, the poor readers would still hope for better luck 
next time. Dumas' " Three Guardsmen" and its successors, 
are specimens of-this strategy, on a smaller scale. 

The " Knights of the Mind,'' however, has the advantage 
of a strong national interest, which has caused it to be 
read with avidity in Germany ; while, for the same reason, 
a translation of it into English would not repay the 
publisher. Many of the characters are real individuals, 
slightly disguised, and the thread of the story, which i? 



A HOME IX THE THUKIXGIAN FOREST. 259 

sufficiently improbable, is subordinate to its political and 
philosophical development. As I said before, it exhibits 
great powers, but unnecessarily diluted. 

Saturday dawned fair and warm, and the wooded moun- 
tains blissfully enjoyed the sunshine. Our old friends 
across the gardens, and the Councilloress B. with her boys, 
joined us at breakfast, under the locust-trees in front of 
the Felsenkeller. Scarcely had we taken our seats, when 
the plague of the Thuringian Forest — the lace-peddlers — 
assailed us. In valley and on height, by wood and field, 
they lay in wait for you. Sit under a tree, and one of 
them drops from the branches ; look into a pond, and the 
shadow of another opens its pasteboard-box. Denial does 
no good, and it is not lawful to use force. On this particular 
morning, the lady B., in a flow of merry spirits, took up a 
new weapon, which, to our surprise, proved entirely 
effectual. " Lace !" said she, assuming an air half tragic, 
half sentimental, "talk not of lace {spitzen) in the majestic 
presence of Nature ! we have mountain-peaks {berg-spitzen) 
already. For the border (saum) of a dress ? see, yonder 
is the edge of the forest {wald-saum) ! Remove your 
lace, ye profane ! The bosom of ISTature requires it not !" 
The rest of us took up the cue, and the peddlers, at first 
mystified, presently went off in great indignation. 

At Reinhardtsbrunu we met B., in company with a giant 

rifleman, the Captain von K , on their way to 

the summit of the Inselsberg. We straightway joined the 
party, the ladies promising to meet us at the Hunter's Rest, 
high on the mountain, in the afternoon. It was intensely 
hot as we drove up the Monsters' Ravine, between its tal? 



260 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

bluffs of rock, now and then scaring a doe from her pasture, 
I secretly rejoiced that the easy grade of the macadamized 
road allowed me to keep my seat while climbing the steep 
at the end of the glen. Once on the ridge, we had a long 
level to the foot of the Inselsberg, with a view extending 
northward to the Brocken, and southward over the princi- 
pality of Saxe-Meiningen into Bavaria. The Captain, an 
Austrian by birth, had much that was interesting to relate. 
He had made the campaign in Italy in 1849, had been in 
Dalmatia, in Turkey and Hungary, and was now an 
inhabitant of Holstein — a Liberal in his political views, but 
by no means a Democrat. Although himself a noble, he 
was excessively severe upon the adelstolz^ or pride of caste, 
which is the chief characteristic of a large portion of the 
German nobility. "For a young fellow who has been 
brought up at home, by a silly mother, and knows no 
better,'' said he, " I have only commiseration ; but a 
nobleman who has seen the world, and is acquainted with 
men, and still exhibits this pride of caste, is a stupid ass !" 
We all laughed at the Captain's honest emphasis, and 
I mentally contrasted his good sense with the conversation 
of certain F.F.Y.'s whom I have met, and who so bored 
me with accounts of "good families," that I devoutly 
wished there had been a few bad families in Virginia. 

We had a lovely day for the view from the Inselsberg. 
Now, I shall not attempt to describe this view, for I find 
that the panoramas visible from inland mountains which 
rise beyond a certain height, have very much the same 
general features. All the lower ranges are flattened to the 
eye, and the perspective of color passes through the same 



A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 26 i 

delicate gradations. Nearest below you a group of dark 
fir mountains, then a middle distance of varying green, 
brown, and gold ; and, embracing all, a glassy, transparent 
horizon-ring of the tenderest blue and purple tints. Any 
one who has stood upon a mountain can from these hints 
construct the picture. 

The landlord recognized in B. a beneficent patron, and 
gave us a sumptuous dinner, including trout and venison, 
in his lofty hotel. We drank our coffee in the open air, 
taking (I at least) full draughts of the loveliest colors for 
the palette of the eye, while the fragrant Mocha gratified 
the palate of the baser sense. The Hunter's Rest was 
visible far below, a green meadow spot among the woods, 
and we descried, through a telescope, a familiar .rose-colored 
dress, which announced that the ladies had already arrived. 
We joined them in season to pass an hour of the sweet 
evening in their company, and then walked together in the 
cool twilight, three miles down the mountain, to our 
cottage. 



8. — "The Vision of Sudden Death." 

July 17, 1861. 
Did you ever read De Quincey's "Vision of Sudden 
Death?" — that powerful, fascinating paper, which whirls 
you onward with impetuous speed as to an inevitable 
doom, and finally terminates in a puff of dust, leaving you 
a little bewildered, but none the worse ! It was recalled 
to my mind yesterday evening by a vision more terrible 



262 AT HOME ASB ABKOAD. 

than. that which he describes, and as fortunate in its close, 
I have not read the article for years, but I shall read it 
again with that keen understanding, that sharp interior 
illumination which a moment's sensation is sufficient to 
give. I look out of my window on the fair valley, fairer 
than ever in the morning sunshine and the ripening grain, 
and as my eyes touch one point where a row of trees 
bends along the side of the mountain, an icy chill suddenly 
strikes to my heart. Yet — everything remains as it was 
twenty-four hours ago, in Nature, in my own household, 
in all our hopes and plans. The ship that just grazes an 
iceberg comes into port as surely as that which passed it, 
out of sight ; but the passengers step on shore with very 
different feelings. 

Four miles eastward of this, on the end of a mountain- 
spur, is the site of the first Christian church in Middle 
Germany. The whole neighborhood round about was 
consecrated by the labors of that " Apostle of Peace," St. 
Bonifacius, whom Saxon England sent to redeem her 
mother-land from heathendom, and this church was the 
first temple he raised over the ruined altars of Odin and the 
Druid oaks which he felled with his own hand. An excur- 
sion to the spot was part of our summer programme, which 
we carried out yesterday afternoon. During all my 
previous rambles in the Thtiringian Forest I had somehow 
neglected this locality, and when the cool air, the shaded 
sky, and the subdued, mellow light w^hich lay upon the 
landscape, giving its tints that ripe, juie^ depth which is 
to the eye as a strong flavor to the palate, lured us forth 
from our cottage, I said "Let us go to Altenberga !" 



A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 263 

That the reader may follow this pilgrimage with the 
proper interest, let me communicate to him the history of 
St. Bonifacius and his labors, as I have gathered it from 
the Thiiringian Chronicles. The commencement of Chris- 
tianity in Germany was also the commencement of Civiliza- 
tion, and Bonifacius deserves a place next after Charle- 
magne, among the founders of the Empire. His true name 
was Winfried. He was born in England in the year 680, 
and was educated in the monastery of Nut-shell (?), where, 
as a boy, he determined to devote his life to missionary 
labors. His first attempt was made in Friesland, as an 
assistant of the English bishop, Willibrod. Failing in this, 
he made a pilgrimage to Rome, and was consecrated for 
the work by Pope Gregory H. Crossing the Alps, he 
passed through Bavaria to Thiiringia and Hessia, where 
he preached to the people at first with more zeal than 
success. Afterwards, having secured the protection of 
Charles Martel, the virtual ruler of the Franks, to whom 
nearly the whole of Germany was then subject, his labors 
began to exhibit cheering results. He made himself the 
object of special awe among the people by the boldness 
with which he overthrew and destroyed the rude statues 
of their gods. At the village of Geismar, in Hessia, he 
seized an axe and hewed down the immense Thunder-oak, 
sacred to Thor, while the people looked on in silent con- 
sternation. 

It was in or about the year 726, (the precise date cannot 
be ascertained) when he built a chapel dedicated to St. 
John the Baptist, on the hill overlooking the village of 
Altenberga. Tradition relates that the people so crowded 



264 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

to hear him preach that the chapel was soon unable to 
contain them, and he was obliged to hold service in the 
open air. The Devil thereupon sent flocks of crows, 
I'avens and blackbirds, who made such a chatter as to 
drown his voice ; but at his prayers, and the repeated sign 
of the cross, they flew ofi* in affright and returned no more. 

Gradually, with an activity that never wearied, a zeal 
that never grew cool, Bomfacius planted the Christian 
religion in the place of the paganism which he had so 
forcibly rooted out. He- became the head of the Church 
in Germany, and was made Archbishop of Mayence by 
Gregory III. in 14Q. During the internecine wars which 
followed the death of Charles Martel, his influence was 
potent in the councils of the Franks, and when Childeric 
III., the last of the Merovingian dynasty, was set aside, 
his hands anointed Pepin, the father of Charlemagne, at 
Soissons, in '752. But he had no personal ambition to be 
flattered by these honors. His heart yearned for a renewal 
of his early triumphs, as a simple missionary. Laying 
down the archepiscopal dignity, he set out for Friesland, 
the scene of his earliest labors. The wild race fell upon 
his little party with sword and spear. Holding the Bible 
before him as his only shield — relying, perhaps, upon a 
miraculous interposition of heavenly aid — he met his death, 
at the age of seventy-four, after a life without a blot, the 
death he had coveted when a boy. He was canonized, but 
his "holiest title is " The Apostle of Peace." 

In Germany a thousand years seem to embrace a nar- 
rower cycle than two hundred years in America. We still 
see the primitive race, in wampum^ moccasin and war-paint, 



A HOME IN THE THURESTGIAN FOREST. 265. 

in the streets of New York; but here, the footsteps of the 
ante-feudal era are so completely washed out, the grooves 
in which the life of the present race moves are so old and 
worn, apparently so irrevocably fixed, that we look back 
upon the long-haired, half-naked savages of the seventh 
century, as if they were cotemporaries of the Egyptian 
Remesides. In throwing out, here and there, a thread of 
comparative chronology, as I read these historical fragments, 
I find myself constantly forgetting that our history covers 
so small a portion of the time, and that Frederic with the 
Bitten Cheek was not a cotemporary of Petrus Stuyvesant. 
The Seven Years' War, here, seems no farther back in the 
Past than with us the Missouri Compromise. The explana- 
tion is, perhaps, that we live more in the same length of 
time. 

Let me look out of the window, to correct the digressive 
influences of my contracted study. There ! the sight of 
yonder mountain, where 

" Like black priests, in order slow, 
Round and round, row after row, 
Up and up the pine-trees go, 
And so down on the other side — " 

brings me back to the story. It was a family pilgrimage, 
in which the whole household, servants excluded, took 
part. A donkey was procured for our little one and her 
Russian cousin, respectively three and four years old, the 
two occupying a single saddle, upon which they were so 
tied that they could neither fight nor fall ofi*, while a for- 
ward and stupid boy held the bridle. I have fi-equently 

12 



266 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

noticed that men degenerate by continual intercourse with 
horses (witness grooms, hackmen and jockeys), swapping 
then- good traits with the animal, for his vices. This boy 
proved the same with regard to donkeys. He brayed as 
continually, and concealed a talent for malicious tricks 
under a like aspect of innocent stupidity. However, we 
were too much interested in the delight of the children to 
notice such traits at the start. 

Passing through the town, Ave followed the highway 
along the side of the Kernberg, around its eastern base, 
and through a dark wood into the neighboring valley. 
How surprising was the aspect of this quiet and seclusion, 
in contrast with the lively Friedrichsroda ! The irregular 
valley-basin, a mile in diameter, and bounded by forests on 
all sides, seemed to be entirely deserted. The picturesque 
little village of Engelsbach, in the centre, was finished at 
least a century ago, and has stood still ever since. ISTow 
and then a white-headed child popped a "good day!" at 
us from the window, but adult inhabitants were not to be 
seen. They were off somewhere in the " under-land," or 
far up in the woods. No girls gossipped around the foun- 
tain, and the tavern-sign creaked with a lonely sound, for 
the lusty beer-drinkers failed. 

Some sculptured fragments built into the churchyard 
wall attracted my attention ; but my hope of discovering 
mediaeval relics was soon dissipated. Under a half-length 
bas-relief of a man with incomplete features and very 
angular muscles was the inscription: "Adam. 1747." — 
while a similar being, with the addition of two inverted 
tea-cups between her arms, was designated " Eva." They 



A HOME IX THE THURmGIAN FOREST. 267 

were the work of a pious wood-cutter — an uncoDscions 
Pre-Eaphaelite. 

At the other end of the valley we found a toll-house, 
where the boy was obliged to pay for his donkey. Here, you 
pass a toll-tree about every four miles, but you have the 
finest roads in the world. From Friedrichsroda to Goth a 
and back (twenty miles in all) the toll is about twenty-five 
cents for a two-horse carriage, which is little enough for a 
macadamized highway, good in all weathers and at all 
seasons. Loose cattle are also tolled : in fact, pedestrians 
are the only exempts. " The ass pays nothing," said our 
gate-keeper. " How — nothing ?" " Why, because he can't 
carry money : the boy pays for him" — and the old man 
grinned with delight at a jest which he had already 
repeated seven hundred times. 

The way to Altenberga led through delicious pastoral 
landscapes. Through the smooth, emerald meadows 
wound brooks shaded with alder trees, while the heights 
w^ere clothed with mingled woods of oak and fir. The 
villages of Altenberga and Catterfeld, on opposite slopes, 
are united by a narrow isthmus of hill, on the highest 
point of which stands a fine old church, in a grove of 
lindens. Below it, the drainage of the mountains forms 
a pool, reflecting the sky in a sheet of darker blue. The 
site of the chapel built by Bonifacius is on the summit of 
the mountain, south of the first-named village. Here, in 
an open space, surrounded on three sides by the forest, is a 
monument of sandstone, thirty feet high, in the form of 
a candlestick. Its existence is owing to the 2;.eal of a pious 
miller, Avith whom originated the idea of thus commemo- 



268 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

rating the spot. The eccentric Duke August of Saxe- 
Gotha-Altenburg designed the monument, which is a very 
heavy candlestick indeed. The gilded flame at the top is 
divided into four parts, which, as there is no doctrine of a 
Quaternity, may have mystical meaning not apparent to 
ns. The foundations of the original chapel have been laid 
bare, and a stone, said to have been part of the baptismal 
font, stands under the adjacent trees : but it is evidently of 
a much later date. There seems to be no doubt, however, as 
to the antiquity of the foundation-walls, which, in all pro- 
bability, are those laid by the Apostle. 

We returned more rapidly than we went, on account of 
the difference of the donkey's pace towards home. We 
passed Engelsbach and turned the corner of the Kern- 
berg, whence the narrow grain-fields along the slope of 
Reinhardtsberg, which they covered as with a mantle of 
striped and watered silk, were visible, gleaming with a 
truly silken lustre in the evening sunshine. The children, 
crowded together in the saddle, had exhausted the novelty 
of the ride, and were growing tired. They were a little 
in advance of us, and we did not notice that the donkey- 
boy, who was tying on a hat which one of them had 
dropped, had carelessly let go of the bridle. All at once 
the beast sprang forward, and in a second was out of the 
boy's reach, careering at full gallop along the highway. 
" Run for your life !" I shouted to the bewildered fellow, 
following him as fast as my strength could carry me. The 
terrified children screamed as they were violently tossed to 
and fro, helpless and happily unaware of the fearful peril. 
I ran, as it were, between Death and Despair. Behind 



A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 269 

me, the frantic cries of two mothers ; before me, the two 
young lives, flung from side to side, as by a wind, which at 
any moment might blow them out for ever. 

The sight sickened me with a dread which I never felt 
before, and yet I could not turn away my eyes. One toss 
on the highway, hard as stone — one more bound, and the 
fate might come ! And with all the speed which my des- 
peration could give me, I came no nearer. The cries 
ceased : was it from terror, or a cause I dared not suspect ? 
Something hung from the saddle — but no ! let me draw a 
veil over the torture of those few moments. I had run 
upwards of a quarter of a mile, and felt, with a pang of 
despair, that my strength would soon begin to fail, when 
the donkey slackened his pace. The boy soon caught and 
stopped him, and I saw, as I approached, that the saddle 
was half-turned, and the children were hanging nearly to 
the ground. To cut the fastenings which held them, to 
catch them in my arms, and set them on their feet to 
determine whether any limbs were broken — all this hap- 
pened I scarcely know how. Thank God for a miracle ! 
our darlings were unharmed. Shaken, stunned, and terri- 
fied, they were yet able to stand, and I stepped aside that 
the mothers might see their safety before they came. 

We walked back to the cottage, silent and shuddering. 
The transition from our careless security to an almost hope- 
less horror, and our release from the latter, had been 
equally sudden. The current of our lives flowed onward 
in its accustomed channel, but it had passed over a bed of 
ice, and retained the chill. We had beheld the " Vision 
of Sudden Death." 



270 AT HOME AISTD ABKOAU. 

As we came upon the height where our cottage stands. 
the sun breaking through a bank of clouds, poured an 
unspeakable glory upon the landscape. Over the fir-woods 
of the Kernberg gushed a torrent of golden fire, and the 
summit-trees stood like flickering spires of flame against a 
background of storm. Out of blue shadow, so clear that it 
seemed a softer light, rose the burning basalt of the " Praise- 
God," with a magnificent fragment of rainbow based upon 
its pointed peak. Strong and dazzling, painted in intensest 
light, and crowned with an altar-flame of sevenfold color, 
the mountain concentrated in itself the splendor of the 
dying day. But in name and in lustre, it was a faint sym- 
bol of that feeling within us which measured the mercy 
of our deliverance by the depth of the abyss into which 
we had gazed. That flaming evangel of the sunset found 
itself already written on our hearts — not to fade as the 
rainbow faded, not to narrow itself away as the gleam from 
the darkening forests. And that night our unconscious 
darling fell asleep with a halo around her head, and the 
wings of a closer and humbler tenderness enfolding her. 



9. — ^The Fokest and its Legends. 

JULT 24, 1861. 

A week of walks and excursions — of ^dsits and domestic 
fetes — of song and tradition, of historic legend so ideal, and 
pure romance so real, in their reciprocal lints, that the chief 
personages of both walk hand in hand through our dreams! 



A IIOAIE IX THE TUURINGIAX FOREST. 2l\ 

How is it possible to keep the record of these days ? An 
author writes, generally, from the dearth of that which he 
desires : where life gives it to him in overflowing measure, 
he enjoys and is silent. I know of a youth, the son of a 
distinguished poet, who was laughed at for saying ; " No, 
I shall not write poems, though I inherit the faculty ; but I 
am going to do a much finer and rarer thing — ^I shall live a 
poem !" N"ow the youth was not so far wrong in his 
notions ; but he overlooked the fact that a poem in life is 
as little the result of a cool resolution, as a poem in lan- 
guage. This much is true, however — :that the poetic epi- 
sodes in our own experience are worth more to us than all 
the poems we write or read. I would not give my day in 
the Acropolis for all Childe Harold, nor that one chapter 
of the Arabian Nights which I lived, in Aleppo, for the 
entire Thousand and One. 

Halt, hippogriff, that champest the bit, scenting the 
Orient afar off! And you, ye Muses, even now buckling 
his girth, and putting on your sandals for the shining high- 
way — unsaddle, and turn him loose, to graze for awhile in 
these green Thtiringian meadows ! Here there is still fresh 
pasture : not the voluptuous breath of the musky rose, or 
the tulip's goblets of blood and fire, but sprinkled hare- 
bells, as if the summer sky had rained its color upon the 
mountains, blood-pinks, which spring up wherever a knight 
was murdered, in the old feudal times, and scentless heath- 
er, the delight of fairies. Here, in some wild nook, still 
gi'ows the enchanted Key-flower — the golden lily of Fable, 
which opens to him who plucks it the diamond halls of the 
gnomes. The day of departure will come but too soon 



272 AT HOilE AND ABROAD. 

let US gather a fcAv more blossoms for the wreath we shall 
hang over our cottage-door ! 

I have been struck, in reading the legends of the Forest, 
with the family likeness which they present, in its different 
districts. The repetition of the same story, in various loca- 
lities, would seem to indicate a very remote antiquity of 
origin. It is not likely that one neighborhood would bor- 
row of another, but the fragments of the original tribe, 
migrating hither, and scattering themselves among the 
valleys, would preserve the common legendary stock, and 
gradually attach it to their several homes. The legend of 
the Key-flower, one of the most beautiful, is thus found in 
a number of places. Sometimes the blossom is of a won- 
derful golden color : sometimes it is blue or purple : but the 
story is the same. A herdsman sees the flower on the 
mountain. Attracted by its beauty, he plucks it and puts 
it in his hat. Immediately he perceives an open door in 
the mountain-side. The passage conducts him to an im- 
mense subterranean hall, sparkling with its heaps of gold 
and jewels. A gray-bearded gnome, the guardian of these 
treasures, says to him : " Take what you want, but don't 
forget the best !" He fills his pockets, his bosom, and final- 
ly his hat, the old gnome still crying : " don't forget the 
best ! The flower falls upon the earth, but he hastens away 
without noticing it. " Don't forget the best !" shouts the 
gnome for the last time. There is a clap of thunder, and 
the herdsman rushes to the open air, the gates banging be- 
hind him. The door has disappeared ; the gold and jewels 
are nothing but dry leaves. He has forgotten the best — the 
enchanted Key-flower, by the possession of which his gold 



A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 2Y3 

would have remained gold, and the doors opened to him as 
often as he might choose to come. He never sees it again. 

The legend of Tannhauser, the home of which we can see 
from any of the heights near us, has gone around the world 
and I need not repeat it. There are some curious local 
superstitions connected with it, and the story seems to have 
been confounded by the peasants with another and earlier 
legend. The " Yenus" of Tannhauser becomes identified 
in their mouths, with " Frau Holle," who evidently belongs 
to the Pagan period — perhaps the Hela of Scandinavian 
mythology. When it snows, the people say : " Frau Holle 
is plucking her geese." Occasionally, in the winter, she 
leads a chase of airy hounds, like the Wild Huntsman of 
the Odenwald. Wo to him who should dare to look on 
this infernal rout ! His head would be instantly twisted 
around, and his face would look behind him for the rest of 
his days. But the faithful Eckart, the squire of Tannh'au-- 
ser, who sits at the mouth of the cave, awaiting his master's 
return, always goes forth — in the shape of an old man with 
staff and silver beard — in advance of the wild chase, and 
warns those whom he meets to throw themselves on their 
faces untn it has passed by. 

In the Yenus-Mountain — ^but two hours' drive from our 
cottage — there is really a cavern, which has not yet been 
+,horoughly explored, so far as I can learn. Peasants who 
have ventured into the entrance, of course report that they 
see the figure of Eckart sitting in the dusky shades beyond. 
Two or three centuries ago, the story runs, a number of 
boys who were pasturing horses on the mountain, agreed 
to go in and explore the secrets of the cave. Turning loose 

12* 



2*74 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

their horses, they took the bridles, attached themselves to 
one another, in single file, and boldly entered. But, as the 
daylight disappeared behind them, the last boy in the line 
was seized with a dread so powerful that he cut the thong, 
and stood still, watching the light of the splints they had 
kindled disappear, one by one, in the bowels of the earth. 
Then he crept back towards the entrance, calling loudly 
and fearfully on his lost companions. They never returned. 
The boy was found at the mouth of the cave, at twilight, 
by the alarmed peasants ; but he steadily pined away from 
that hour, and died in a few months. The noises which at 
times issue from the cavern add to the terror with which it 
is still regarded. The author Bechstein, whom no one 
would accuse of an excess of imagination, states that once, 
when standing on the mountain, he was surprised by a sud- 
den subterranean roar, like that of a mighty cataract, the 
cause of which he was utterly unable to discover. 

— Thus, in the mornings, we read history and legend : 
in the afternoons, we wander oif to some point which they 
celebrate. We have climbed to the Schauenburg, the fast- 
ness of Ludwig the Bearded, first Landgrave of Thuringia, 
luring even the little one up to the height, by the discovery 
of a wild strawberry, here and there. Buried in harebells 
and heather, we watched the shadows of the clouds and 
mountains fold themselves over the broad, sunny landscape, 
now quenching the castle of Gotha, now disclosing the 
sparkling house on the Seeberg, and finally filling with 
evening-smoke the valley of Friedrichsroda. N^othing of 
the Schauenburg remains, except the foundation of one of 
ilie round towers. Invisible herdsmen, far across the deep 



A HOME IX THE THUEIXGIAX FOREST. 2*75 

gulfs of the hills, answered our shouts, and the musical 
chime of a thousand bells, faintly flung upon our ears by 
the wandering puffs of air, seemed the very voice of the 
Earth, humming to herself some happy strain of the sum- 
mer. 

Then, there was the Baron's birth-day, when we met the 
jubilant family at the Hunters' Rest, and walked three 
miles along the wooded comb of the Forest, led by B., the 
mighty hunter. "We were bound for the Glassback Rock, 
a lonely ledge on the Hessian side of the mountains, known 
but to few, and hard to find. B. confidently took the lead, 
but, meeting with a forester who reported a stag in the 
neighborhood, the two darted off together into the woods. 
The remainder of us, thus forsaken, became entangled in 
the wood-paths, uncertain whether to advance or fall back. 
Our combined shout was suflacient to frighten any stag 
within a mile's distance, and the result was soon manifest, 
in the return of the tw^o indignant hunters. 

We sat upon the Glassback Rock, hanging over fifty 
miles of mountain landscape, singing the peasant songs of 
Thiiringia, and staining our clothes with crushed whortle- 
berries. B., however, was determined to have a stag before 
sunset, and hurried us back, through one of the most ex- 
quisite sylvan dells in the world. At the Hunters' Rest, a 
long table was set in the open air, and the balmy odor of 
boiled potatoes greeted us. Butter as sweet as new chest- 
nuts, with the creamy, honeycombed cheese of Swiss val- 
leys and ruddy Westphalian ham, studded the board, and 
the Baron, as he caught sight of certain slender urns of 
purple and green, began to sing : — 



276 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

" So crown with leaves the dear, the brimming beaker, 
And drain its liquid bliss : 
Search Europe over, jovial nectar-seeker, 
There's no such wine as this I" 

Crack ! went a rifle in a neighboring copse, before even the 
birth-day health had been drunk. Presently we saw B., 
flourishing his gray hunter's hat, followed by two of his 
sons, with rifle and powder-flask, and the forester, bearing 
a tawny load. To him the potatoes were sweeter, and the 
wine more inspiring, than to any of us. Then followed 
leap-frog among the men and boys, with various games 
wherein the ladies could take part, and thus the dew-fall 
came unawares, warning us down the mountain-side. 

Our most recent exploit is the ascent of the Inselsberg 
in a hay-wagon, by moonlight. Our departure from the 
cottage was postponed so long that no other vehicle could 
be obtained. The clumsy, bone-shattering affair was drawn 
by an old gray horse, driven by a peasant in a green blouse. 
The last streak of sunset burned on Xyffhauser, the castle 
of Barbarossa, and the Golden Mead, as we reached the 
crest of the mountain ; but the moon was already in the 
sky, and for three hours our course lay through an enchanted 
realm. The air was breathless, and, to our surprise, far 
warmer and balmier than in the valleys ; the brown shadows 
of beeches and firs, on our road, belted the silver of the 
moon ; and far down, on either side, glimmered a dim, blue, 
mysterious world. Snake-like wreaths of vapor crept along 
the courses of the streams ; the distant forests lay like 
flecks of cloud, and the horizon was girdled with a lumi- 
nous belt. It was eleven o'clock when we reached the house 



A HOME IN THE TIIUKIXGIAN FOREST. 277 

on the summit, which was so thronged w^ith guests that the 
kind hostess was obliged to give us her own room. 

We descended by way of the Portal Rock into the 
Monsters' Ravine. Of course we stopped at Henneberg's 
Mill for a draught of beer. " Give it to the little one !" 
said the green coachman, " it's good for children. Why, 
I have a child that had to be weaned at six months, and 
we gave it as much beer as cow's-milk. It's thirty years 
old now, and has so much forsch (force) and so much 
scJipritt (esprit) that you wouldn't believe ! It seems to 
feel the good o' the beer yet !" We laughed heartily at 
this, not so much at the idea of '* bringing up by hand'' on 
beer, as at the comical effect of the Germanized French 
words, which are handed down among the peasants from 
the Napoleonic times. 

The term " Forest" here represents something very 
different from our wild woods in America. A western 
settler, fresh from his girdled clearings, ^v^ould be amazed, 
at finding these wooded mountains more carefully looked 
after than his own garden-patch. There is not a nook in 
the whole length and breadth of the chain, that is not 
regularly visited and guarded — where the trees are not 
counted, measured, and subjected to sanitary inspection. 
When a trunk is ripe, anywhere, down it comes. But as 
for a stump to tell where it stood, S4ich shameful waste is 
unknown here. The roots are carefully extracted, down 
to the very fangs, the earth smoothed, and a young tree 
set in the place. You sometimes overlook miles of forest, 
on the steepest slopes, every tree of w^hich was planted. 
The straight rows, converging from the base towards 



278 AT HOilE AND ABROAD. 

the summit, or slanting obliquely along the side in 
regular parallels; are not agreeable to the eye. These 
artificial signs disappear as the trees become older, but 
the forest never entirely recovers the unstudied grace of 
nature. 

So carefully is this wood-culture fostered, that it is pro- 
hibited to break a branch, or pull up a young seedling. 
The Forest is the property of the State, and quite an army 
of woodmen is necessary in order to look after its interests. 
The amount of wood felled every year is carefully propor- 
tioned to the growth, so that the main stock is never dimi- 
nished. In some districts the finer twigs and roots are the 
perquisites of the adjacent villages, and quite an interesting 
discussion is going on at this time, between some of the 
latter and the State, as to the precise point where the 
trunk terminates and the root begins. From eighty to a 
hundred and twenty years, according to the locality, is the 
time required for the maturity of the trees. 

When we consider that game, also, comes under the 
same regulations, we must call the entire mountain-range 
of the Thtiringian Forest a park on the grandest possible 
scale. We lose, it is true, the charm of wild, tangled, 
irregular woods — of tracts of wilderness over which still 
hovers the atmosphere of exploration — of that utter seclu- 
sion which comes from the absence of any trace of man ; 
but, on the other hand, we have, everywhere, — on moun- 
tain-top and in remotest glen — the accessibility of a garden, 
the warm atmosphere of care and culture, and the con- 
trary, but equal charm, of the nearness of man. Centuries 
must elapse before any system of this kind can be neces- 



A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 2*79 

sary in America. It is the difference between a settlement 
of two hundred and two thousand years. 

Meanwhile, let me rejoice in the fact that I have taller 
oaks of my own, at home, than any I have seen here ; that my 
tulip-trees, a hundred feet high, are masses of starry bloom, 
while the single starveling specimen at Reinhardtsbrunn 
never blossoms ; and that my chestnuts stand twenty-four 
feet in girth, while here they cannot grow ! In the Philo- 
sophy of Compensation one finds the surest source of 
contentment. 



1 0. — Dat-Deeams — ^Depakture. 

July 31, 1861. 

" Must I leave thee, Paradise ?*' says Milton's Eve ; but 
on this last day of our cottage-life in the mountains, I, the 
Adam of our temporary Eden, ask the same regretful 
question. Our fate is fixed. No amount of rent, paid in 
advance, will enable us to tarry longer on the banks of the 
Four Rivers : the cherub has warned us, and the flaming 
sword which he carries, to drive us away, is a previous 
lease of the cottage to an English family, who take posses- 
sion to-morrow. We have been whirled for a month into 
a quiet eddy, where our waves have been still enough to 
mirror the flowers on the banks. Now the roaring stream 
takes us again. 

Why should it take us at all? Why should we not 
regulate our lives in accordance with the common sense of 
our own natures, whether or not it chimes in with the com- 



280 AT HOME A-JTD ABKOAD. 

mon sense of the world ? On every side we see blossoms 
that only seem to wait for our plucking ; every wind brings 
us their betraying odors ; yet we turn away, and go on 
with our old business of pulling thistles, no matter how 
our hands bleed. A great portion of our lives is spent in 
achieving something that we do not actually need. If 
Wealth — the chief result is, that we leave our children more 
than is wholesome for them : if Fame, the " bad picture and 
worse bust " grin at us their derisive answer : if Power, 
we give up the sanctity of life, and allow a thousand 
curious or malicious eyes to peer into our dressing-room. 
Now, wealth that is won without too exhausting a strug- 
gle, fame that comes unsought, and power unconsciously 
exercised, are things to be desired; but they are gifts 
which only some chosen favorite of Fortune receives, and 
we must gauge our expectations by the common experience 
of man. 

On the ridge, between our cottage and the Felsenkeller, 
there is a granite block, whereou you read : " In the cheer- 
ful evening of life walked here, grateful to God, Frederic 
Perthes." It is one of those memorials which you never 
find but in Germany. Elsewhere, the dead body is re- 
corded, not the joys, or triumphs, or the tranquil happiness 
of the living man. The universal record simply tells you 
the individual has ceased to exist : here you learn where he 
lived, enjoyed, and was grateful. The mellow glow of his 
cheerful evening of life, not the damp chill of his tomb, 
lingers upon the spot. Thus, on a house in the Rosen au, 
near Leipzig, you read : " Here Schiller wrote his Hymn 
to Joy." Give me some such inscription of a moment of 



A HOME IN THE THURIXGIAX FOREST. 281 

full, inspired life, and I will be satisfied with a nameless 
grave ! 

Around this monument of Perthes, the grass is bright 
with harebells and daisies. On one side, you look down 
upon Friedrichsroda, and past the basaltic cone of the 
Praise-God into the deep green glen behind ; on the other, 
uj)on the park of Reinhardtsbrunn, abutting against the 
lofty Abbot's Mountain, beyond which rises the Evil 
Mountain, dark and lowering. The sweetest winds of the 
Forest reach this spot, and thence you have the loveliest 
pictures of sunset. Here, say we, let us build a cottage of 
our own— a little ark of refuge whither we may fly, at 
intervals, from the stormy life of our American home, from 
the brightness of its newer heaven and earth, to enjoy the 
contrast of this intense quiet, this veiled atmosphere of the 
Past. Here is an air in which my unwritten poems may 
ripen : where something worthy of the divine art may be 
reached — something which men may take to their hearts 
and cherish for its loveliness. Then, if any one, long 
afterwards, should place a tablet over the cottage-door, or 
a head-stone ipon its site, saying: " Here he wrote," my 
memory would become a portion of the cheerfulness and 
the delight of others, not of their grave and solemn 
thoughts. 

But, alas ! how many castles of this sort have I build ed 
— and only one, as yet, stands realized in stone and mortar ! 
I have a tropical home on the mountain terrace of Jalapa, 
embowered in coffee-trees, with a view of Orizaba from my 
study-^vindow. I have a palace on the lower slope of Etna, 
with hanging gardens of aloe, orange, and palm — a Moor- 



282 AT HOilE AXD ABROAD. 

ish tower, overlooking the Yega of Granada, and an empty 
tomb (cleansed of bats), in the limestone crags of Goorneh, 
with the plain of Thebes at my feet. Then, there is my 
little ranche in the valley of San Jose, in the perfect atmo- 
sphere of California ! How to pluck these aromatic blos- 
soms from the rough, prickly stem of life ? Ample means 
might do it, but where would be the sweet satisfaction of a 
home, or the full maturity of mind, the want of which 
is one's chief source of unrest ? If an oyster could change 
his shell, at pleasure, I presume there would be no pearls. 
Yes, but the pearl is a disease, you say : art, literature, 
science, you may add, flow from restless and unsatisfied 
natures. Why not take the existence this planet offers, in 
all its richest and loveliest phases, and thus make Life itself 
your art and your passion ? 

Because I cannot. Give me means, time, freedom from 
restraining ties — still I cannot. Leave the Christian idea 
of Duty out of sight — separate the question from its moral 
aspects — still, we are so constituted that our truest enjoy- 
ment comes through the force of contrast. We receive 
delight from Nature, not by passive sensation, but from 
faculties whose activity is not limited by such delight — 
faculties which will not allow us to be still and enjoy. 
Why should I not sit, with folded hands, and be satisfied 
with feeling these thoughts lazily ripple along the shores Oi 
the mind, instead of grappling with language, and achiev- 
ing, at best, an imperfect expression ? Because the strug- 
gle is necessary, in order to give coherent shape to thought. 
You may imagine any amount of perfect statues in the 
marble quarry, but your true joy is in the slow result of 



A HOME IX THE THUEIXGIAN FOREST. 283 

the chisel. Expression rewards one, not only by the sense 
of something accomplished, but by giving palpable form 
and visible color to the vague delight of the mind. 
Nature, thus, provides against 

" pampering the coward heart 
"With feelings all too delicate for use." 

The Sybarites, I suspect, were the most peevish and un- 
happy creatures of theh- time. For ray part, I know per- 
fectly well that if I could build my cottage, and remain here, 
even engaged in healthy study, I should finally miss the 
encounter with other minds, the breezy agitation of com- 
plex life, in some of the great Yanity Fairs of the world. 
So the day-dream fades : but it is not too much to substi- 
tute such an occasional holiday for the flashy aims wherein 
others find their happiness. We have made our home here, 
for instance, at a lower expenditure than a month in the 
whirlpool of Saratoga would require. I am willing that my 
fashionable friends should say : " Poor fellow ! he cannot 
keep a carriage," so long as I can reply, " Yes, but I keep 
a cottage.'' What if I cannot give balls, while I can give 
sunsets, and twilights, and summer moons to my friends ! 
We have served up the superb mountain landscape, in all 
lights, to our visitors from the neighboring city, and I am 
sure they regret our departure. 

Here, then, is an end to a quiet which has been all the 
sweeter, because it was unsought. I hear, already, the 
grating of the upper and nether mill-stones of every-day 
life, and prepare to jump into the hopper. Trumpets peal 
from across the Atlantic, and this pure air of Peace chokes 



2S4 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

me while ray brethren are breathing the dust of battle. 1 
drop the painted cards, wherewith I have been building up 
an imaginary existence, and return to the rough bricks and 
gritty mortar which await me. As I hear our beloved flag 
flapping from the cottage-gable, I feel how much more than 
by years of splendid indolence in the fairest regions of the 
Earth has my life been enriched by participation in one of 
the most important crises of History — ^how grand a thing 
it is to have seen, once in one's life, an aroused, inspired and 
unselfish People ! It is, thus, not reluctantly, but with a 
solemn joy, that I return, to be present when Ormuzd and 
Ahriman — the Powers of Light and Darkness — fight for the 
mastery of a Continent ! 



Evening. 
In half an hour the postillion will be here. Our personal 
efiects are packed up, and the bedding, kitchen utensils and 
table furniture (the silver spoons carefully counted) are at 
the service of the new-comers. The little one has run 
around the garden for the last time, and has no doubt pulled 
the last fat gooseberry from the despoiled bushes. Our 
flag has been taken down, rolled up and sent to Dr. K., with 
an immense dispatch (sealed with a double Prussian tha- 
ler) — a copy of which I give : 

" WE, 
B. T., by the grace of God Citizen of the United States of 
America, have found Ourself favorably moved, and here, 
with graciously decree, that our worthy friend. Dr. T. K. 
be appointed our Minister Plenipotentiary and Ambassador 
Extraordinary to the city of Friedrichsroda ; empowering 



A HOME IX THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 285 

him, in times of danger, to place himself under the protec- 
tion of our national flag ; to display the same on all public 
occasions, in token of his diplomatic character, and in asser- 
tion of his neutrality, in case of foreign invasion. Further, 
we herewith warn all authorities, whatever they may be, 
against interfering with the rights and powers hereby 
granted to him, since such interference would provoke our 
extreme displeasure, and might result in serious complica- 
tions between Powers hitherto friendly. 

" Given at Friedrichsroda, this 31st day of July, A. D. 
1861." 

I have no doubt that the good Dr. will justify the extra- 
ordinary confidence where^vith he has been invested. And 
now, farewell ! The postillion's bugle, sounding nearer aa 
he climbs the hill, warns us with the unrestful melody : 

" A rose in his hat and a stafif in his hand, 
The pilgrim must wander, from land unto land — 
Through many a city, o'er many a plain : 
But ah, he must leave them, must wander again I" 



IV. 



A WALK THROUGH THE FRAIsrCONIAN SWIT- 
ZERLAND. 

E\^ERY one has heard of Franconia — the old FranJcenland^ 
or Land of the Franks — but as no branch of knowledge 
which we acquire at school is so neglected in after-life as 
geography, it will do no harm if I explicitly describe its 
position. Franconia occupies the very heart of Germany, 
and, consequently, of Europe, so far as the rivers of the 
continent fix its central point. Springs, which rise within 
a circle two miles in diameter, send their waters to the 
Black Sea, the German Ocean, and the British Channel. 
Draw a line from Nuremberg to Dresden, and another 
from Hanover to Ratisbon, on the Danube, and their inter- 
section wnll give you, very nearly, the centre of Franconia. 
The Frankish Mountains are an offshoot of that long irre- 
gular chain, which, leaving the Rhine as it issues from the 
Lake of Constance, forms a vast curve through the very 
heart of Europe, embracing the Black Forest, the Oden- 
wald, Spessart, the Rhon, the Thiiringia Forest, the Erzge- 
birge, the Giant's Mountains, and the Carpathians and 



A WALK TIIKOUGH THE FRAXCOXIAN SWITZERLAND. 287 

Transylvanian Alps. Franconia lies south of the axis of 
this chain, but its streams are nearly equally tributary to 
the Danube, the Elbe, and the Rhine. Politically, it never 
had an independent existence. Divided during the feudal 
ages into a number of quarrelsome baronies, it was after- 
N\ard parcelled between the Bishopric of Bamberg and the 
Principalities of Bayreuth and Anspach, but since 1809 has 
been incorporated into the Kingdom of Bavaria. 

This region, less interesting in a historical poirjt of view 
than on account of its remarkable scenery and its curious 
deposits of fossil remains, is very rarely visited by other 
than German tourists. The railroads from Leipzig and 
Frankfort-on-the-Main to Munich pass within sight of its 
mountains, but few indeed are the travellers who leave these 
highways, unless at Schweinfurt for the baths of Kissingen, 
or at Hof for those of Eger and Carlsbad. 

Indeed, in my own case, the journey through the Fran- 
conian Switzerland requires a little explanation. The pri- 
mary cause of it was the construction of seats in the 
passenger-cars on American railways ! During nearly six 
months in the year, for three years, I had been obliged to 
use those inconveniences, and the result of this (for a tall 
man) continual cramping, and wedging, and jarring, was a 
serious injury to the knee-joints, which threatened to imfit 
me for duty as a pedestrian. Had I been enrolled among 
the ranks of our gallant volunteers, I am afraid I should 
have fallen by the wayside before the end of the first day's 
march. Some years ago I had occasion to regret that the 
directors of all railroad companies were not uniformly seven 
feet high, and I now repeat it with emphasis. The Cam- 



288 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

den and Amboy Railroad is to me simply a torture, the 
Philadelphia and Baltimore the rack, and from Baltimore 
to Washington I am broken oh the wheel. It is greatly to 
be regretted that the fares on these roads are so very low, 
and the business so insignificant, that the companies can- 
not afford greater space for passengers. 

The prescription was : Moderate daily exercise, carefully 
timed so as to avoid unusual fatigue. But I am one of 
those persons who cannot walk simply for the sake of exer- 
cise ; I must have an object for locomotion. If I were to 
carry stones, hke De Quincy on the Edinburgh turnpike, I 
should be crippled in an hour, but place me in a winding 
valley, where every turn discloses an unknown landscape, 
and I shall hold out for half a day. So the first thing I 
did, after reaching Germany, was to select an interesting 
field wherein to commence my Walking-Cure. Saxony, 
Thtiringia, the Black Forest, the Hartz, I knew already ; 
but here, within a day's railroad travel of my summer home, 
lay Franconia, with its caverns, its dolomite rocks, and its 
fir-clad mountains. In one month from the day I left New 
York I found myself at Forchheim, on the railroad between 
Bamberg and Nuremberg, and on the western border of 
the Franconian Switzerland. 

Here I commence my narrative. 

The omnibus for Streitberg was in waiting, with two 
passengers besides myself. The first was a pleasant old 
gentleman, who I soon discovered was a Professor from the 
University of Erlangen — a graduate of Gottingen in 1816, 
where he was fellow-student with George Ticknor and 
Edward Everett. Then entered a miserable-looking man, 



A WALK THROUGH THE FEANCOXIAN SWIIZERLAND. 289 

with a face wearing the strongest exjiression of distress and 
disgust. He had scarcely taken his seat before he burst 
into loud lamentations. " No, such a man !" lie cried ; " I 
have never met such a dreadful man. I could not get rid 
of him ; he stuck to me like a blue-fly. Because I said to 
one of the passengers, ' I see from your face that you have 
studied,' he attacked me. ' What do you think from my 
face, that I am ?' he said. I didn't care what he was. 
' I'm not very well dressed,' said he, ' but if I had my best 
clothes on you might guess twenty-four hours before you 
could make me out !' Oh, the accursed man ! What did 
I care about him ? ' Don't go to Streitberg !' he said, 
' stop at Forchheim. Go to the Three Swans. If you stay 
there a day, you'll stay three ; if you stay three days, you'll 
stay three weeks. But what do you take me for ?' ' A 
journeyman shoemaker !' I cried, in desperation. ' Ko, 
you're wrong ; I'm a dancing-master !' Holy Saint Peter, 
what a man !" After this I was not surprised when the 
nar]-ator informed us that he was very sick, and was going 
to Streitberg to try the " whey-cure." 

We entered the valley of the Wiesent, one of the far-off 
tributaries of the Rhine. The afternoon was intensely hot, 
but the sky was clear and soft, and the landscape could not 
have exhibited more ravishing effects of light and shade. 
Broad and rich at first, bordered with low hills, the valley 
gradually became deeper and narrower, without losing its 
fair, cultivated beauty. We passed around the foot of the 
Walpurgisberg, on the summit of which is a chapel, whereto 
a pilgrimage in honor of St. Walpurgis is made on the first 
of May. Further up the valley, on the opposite side, is the 

13 



290 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

VexirJcapelle (the Chapel of Annoyance) ; so called, I pre- 
sume, because you have it in view during a day's walk. 
Its situation is superb, on the very crest of a wooded moun- 
tain. Peasant-women, with gay red cloths on their heads, 
brightened the fields, but the abundance of beggars showed 
that we were in Bavaria. 

At the little town of Ebermannstadt two young ladies 
joined us. They wore round hats, much jewelry, and 
expansive crinolines, which they carefully gathered up 
under their arms before taking their seats, thereby avoiding 
the usual embarrassment. They saluted me with great 
cordiality, apologizing for the amplitude of dress which 
obliged me to shift my seat. I was a little disappointed, 
however, to find that they spoke the broadest patois^ which 
properly requires the peasant costume to make it attractive. 
The distance between their speech and their dress was too 
great. " Gelt^ Hans^ '5 geht a Mssel harsch hif?''^ said 
one of them to the postillion — which is as if an American 
girl should say to the stage-driver, " Look here, you Jack, 
it's a sort o' goin' up-hill, ain't it ?" 

The valley now became quite narrow, and presently I 
saw, by the huge masses of gray rock and the shattered 
tower of IsTeideck, that we were approaching Streitberg. 
This place is the portal of the Franconian Switzerland. 
Situated at the last turn of the Wiesent valley — or rather 
at the corner where it ceases to be a gorge and becomes 
a valley— the village nestles at the base of a group of huge, 
splintered, overhanging rocks, among which still hang the 
ruins of its feudal castle. Opposite, on the very summit 
of a similar group, is the ruin of Niedeck. The names of 



A WALK THEOUGH THE FRAXCONIAN SAVITZEELAND. 291 

the two places (the " Mount of Qaarrel" and the " Corner 
of Envy") give us the clew to their history. Streitberg, 
no doubt, w^as at' one time a very Ebal, or Mount of Curs- 
ing — nor, to judge from the invalid who accompanied us 
thither to try the whey-cure, can it yet have entirely lost 
its character. At the cure-house (as the Germans call it) 
there were some fifty similar individuals — sallow, peevish, 
irritable, unhappy persons, in whose faces one could see 
vinegar as well as whey. They sat croaking to each other 
in the balmy evening, or contemplated w^ith rueful faces 
the lovely view down the valley. 

I succeeded in procuring a bath by inscribing my name, 
residence, and the precise hour of bathing, in a book for 
the inspection of the physician. I trust he was edified by 
the perusal. Then, returning to the inn, I ordered a sup- 
per of trout, which are here cheap and good. They are 
kept in tanks, and, if you choose, you may pick out any 
fish you may prefer. A tap on the nose is supposed to kill 
them, after which the gall-bladder is removed, and they are 
thrown into boiling w^ater. In Germany, trout are never 
eaten otherwise. The color fades in the process, but the 
flavor of the fish is fully retained. A slice of lemon, bread, 
butter, and a glass of Rhenish wine, are considered to be 
necessary harmonics. 

I took a good night's sleep before commencmg my walk- 
ing-cure. Then, leaving my travelling-bag to follow with the 
diligence, I set out encumbered only with an umbrella-cane, 
a sketch-book, and a leather pouch, containing guide-book, 
map, note-book, and colors. Somewhat doubtful as to the 
result, but courageous, I began a slow, steady march up 



292 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

the valley. Many years had passed since I had undertaken 
a journey on foot, and as I recalled old experiences and old 
feelings, I realized that, although no sense of enjoyment 
was blunted, the fascinating wonderment of youth, which 
clothed every object in a magical atmosphere, was gone for 
ever. My perception of Beauty seemed colder, because it 
was more intelligent, more discriminating. But Gain and 
Loss, in the scale of life, alternately kick the beam. 

The dew lay thick on the meadows, and the peasants 
were everywhere at work shaking out the hay, so that the 
air was sweet with grass-odors. Above me, on either 
side, the immense gray horns and towers of rock rose out 
of the steep fir-woods, clearly, yet not too sharply defined 
against the warm blue of the sky. The Wiesent, swift and 
beryl-green, winding in many curves through the hay -fields, 
made a cheerful music in his bed. In an hour I reached 
the picturesque village of Muggendorf, near which is Rosen- 
ratiller's Cave, celebrated for its stalactitic formations. I 
have little fancy for subterranean travels, and after having 
seen the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky and the grottoes of 
Crete, I felt no inclination to visit more than one of the 
Franconian caverns. After resting half an hour, and re- 
freshing myself with a glass of water and the conversation 
of a company of ladies wdio alighted at the little tavern, J 
started again, still feeling tolerably brisk. 

The valley now contracted to a wild gorge, with almost 
perpendicular walls of rock, and a narrow strip of meadow 
in its bed. In a distance of five miles I passed two fine old 
mills, w^hich were the only evidences of life and habitation. 
Suddenly, on turning a rocky corner, the castle of Goss* 



A WALK THKOUGII TUE FRAXCOXIAN SWITZERLAND. 293 

weinstein appeared before me, as if hung in the sky. The 
picture was so striking that, in spite of the intense heat, T 
stopped to sketch it. On reaching a mill at the foot of the 
mountain I found there was no bridge over the stream, 
which I should have crossed some distance back. I was 
sufficiently tired, however, to be glad of a good excuse for 
not scaling the height. Presently I reached a little village 
in a nook where the gorge splits into three prongs, through 
two of which wild trout-streams come down to join the 
Wiesent. The meadows were covered with pieces of coarse 
linen in the process of bleaching. Here there was a tavern 
and a huge linden-tree, and after my walk of ten miles I 
considered myself entitled to shade and beer. It occurred 
to me, also, that I might lighten the journey by taking the 
landlady's son to carry my coat, sketch-book, etc. This 
proved to be a good idea. 

The main road here left the valley, which really became 
next to impracticable. We took a foot-path up the stream, 
through a wild glen half-filled with immense fragments that 
had tumbled from the rocky walls on either side. The close 
heat was like that of an oven, and, as the solitude was com- 
plete, I gradually loaded my guide with one article of dress 
after another, until my costume resembled that of a High- 
lander, except that the kilt was white. Finally, seeing some 
hay-makers at a point where the glen made a sharp turn, 
I resumed my original character ; and it was well that I did 
so, for on turning the corner I found myself in the village 
of Ttichersfeld, and in view of a multitude of women who 
were bleaching linen. 

I know of few surprises in scenery equal to this. I was 



29-1 AT HOME AXD ABEOAD. 

looking up the glen, supposing that my way lay straight on, 
when three steps more, and I found myself in a deep trian- 
gular basin, out of which rose three immense jagged masses 
of rock, like pyramids in ruin, with houses clinging, in gid- 
dy recklessness, to their sides ! On a saddle between two 
of them stands the Herrensitz^ or residence of the proprie- 
tary family. A majestic hnden, centuries old, grows at the 
base, and high over its crown tower the weather-beaten 
spires of rock, with a blasted pine on the summit. The 
picture is grotesque in its character, which is an unusual 
feature in scenery. One who comes up the glen is so un- 
prepared for it that it flashes upon him as if a curtain had 
been suddenly lifted. 

Here I rested in the shade until the mid-day heat was 
over. A Jew and a young Bavarian lieutenant kept me 
company, and the latter entertained me with descriptions 
of various executions which he had seen. We left at the 
same time, they for Bayreuth and I for the little town of 
Pottenstein, at the head of the gorge, five miles further. 
By this time, I confess, the journey had become a toil. I 
dragged myself along rather than walked, and when a stout 
boy of twelve begged for a hreutzer^ I bribed him for twelve 
to accompany and assist me. His dialect was of the broad- 
est, and I could sooner have understood a lecture on the 
Absolute Reason than his simple peasant gossip. His tongue 
was a very scissors for clipping off the ends of words. The 
pronoun " ^cA" he changed into " a," and very often used 
the third person of the verb instead of the .first. I man- 
aged, however, to learn that the landlord in Ttlchersfeld 
vas " fearfully rich :'' all the hay in the glen (perhaps ten 



A WALK THROUGH THE FEANCOXIAN SWITZEHLAND. 295 

tons) belonged to him. I had already suspected as much, 
for the landlord took paius to tell iis about a wedding trip 
he had just made to the old monastery of Banz, a day's 
journey distant. " It cost me as much as forty florins," 
said he, " but then we travelled second-class. To my 
thinking it's not half so pleasant as third-class, but then I 
wanted to be noble for once." 

For an hour and a half we walked through a deep, wind- 
ing glen, where there was barely a little room here and 
there for a hay or barley field. On the right hand were 
tall forests of fir and jDine ; on the left, abrupt stony 
bills, capped with huge irregular bastions of Jura limestone. 
Gradually the rocks appear on the right and push away 
the woods ; the stream is squeezed between a double row 
of Cyclopean walls, which assume the wildest and most 
fantastic shapes, and finally threaten to lock together and 
cut ofi* the path. These wonderful walls are three or four 
hundred feet in height — not only perpendicular, but actu- 
ally overhanging in many places. 

As I was shuffling along, quite exhausted, I caught a 
glimpse of two naked youngsters in a shaded eddy of the 
stream. They plunged about with so much enjoyment 
that I was strongly tempted to join them : so I stepped 
down to the bank, and called out, " Is the water cold ?'' 
Whoop ! away they went, out of the water and under a 
thick bush, leaving only four legs visible. Presently these 
also disappeared, and had it not been for two tow shirts, 
more brown than white, lying on the grass, I might have 
supposed that I had surprised a pair of jSTixies. 

The approach to Pottenstein resembles that to Tuchers- 



296 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

feld, but it is less sudden and surprising. It is wonderfully 
picturesque — the houses are so jammed in, here and there, 
among the huge shapeless limestone monoliths, and the 
bits of meadow and garden have such a greenness and 
brightness contrasted with the chaos which incloses them. 
I found my way to the post-inn, and straightway dropped 
into one of the awkward carved wooden chairs (the pattern 
of five centuries ago) in the guests' room, with a feeling 
of infinite gratitude. The landlord brought me a mug of 
beer, with black bread and a handful of salt on the plate. 
I remembered the types of hospitality in the Orient, and 
partook of the hallowed symbols. Then came consecutive 
ablutions of cold water and brandy ; after which I felt 
sufficiently refreshed to order trout for supper. But what- 
ever of mterest the little town may have contained, nothing 
could tempt me to walk another step that day. 

In the morning I engaged a man as guide and sack- 
bearer, and set out by six o'clock for Rabenstein (the 
Raven-rock) and its famous cavern. We first climbed out 
of the chasm of Pottenstein, which was filled with a hot, 
silvery mist, and struck northward over high, rolling land, 
from which we could now and then look down into the 
gorges of the Piittlach and Eschbach. There was not a 
breath of air stirring, and even at that early hour the heat 
was intense. I would have stopped occasionally to rest, 
but the guide pushed ahead, saying : " We must get on 
before the day is hot." The country was bald and mono 
tonous, but the prospect of reaching Rabenstein in two 
hours enabled me to hold out. Finally the little foot-path 
we had been following turned into a wood, whence, after a 



A WALK THROUGH THE FKAXCONIAX SWITZERLAND. 297 

hundred paces, it suddenly emerged upon the brink of a 
deep, rocky basin, resembling the crater of a volcano. It 
was about four hundred feet deep, with a narrow split at 
either end, through which the Eschbach stream entered 
and departed. The walls were composed of enormous 
overhanging masses of rock, which rested on natural arches 
or regular jambs, like those of Egyptian gateways, while 
the bed was of the greenest turf, with a slip of the blue 
sky mirrored in the centre, as if one were looking upon a 
lower heaven through a crack in the earth. Opposite, on 
the very outer edge of the rock, sat the castle of Raben- 
stein, and the houses of the village behind it seemed to be 
crowding on toward the brink, as if anxious w^hich should 
be first to look down. 

Into this basin led the path — a toilsome descent, but at 
the bottom we found a mill which was also a tavern, and 
bathed our tongues in some cool but very bitter and dis- 
agreeable beer. " Sophia's Cave," the finest grotto in the 
Franconian Switzerland, is a little further up the gorge ; 
and the haymakers near the mill, on seeing me, shouted up 
to the cave-keeper in the village over their heads to get his 
torches ready. The rocks on either side exhibit the most 
wild and wonderful forms. In one place a fragment, shaped 
very much like a doll, but from eighty to a hundred feet 
in height, has slipped down from above, and fallen out, 
resting only its head against the perpendicular wall. On 
approaching the cave, the rocky wall on which the castle 
of Rabenstein stands projects far over its base, and a little 
white chapel sits on the summit. The entrance is a very 
'broad, low aich, resting on natural pillars. 



298 AT HOME xVXD ABROAD. 

You first penetrate for a hundred feet or more by a 
spacious vaulted avenue : then the rock contracts, and a 
narrow passage, closed by double doors, leads to the sub- 
terranean halls. Here you find yourself near the top of an 
immense chamber, hung with stalactites and tinkling with 
the sound of water dropping from their points. A wooden 
staircase, protected by an iron railing, leads around the 
sides to the bottom, giving views of some curious forma- 
tions — waterfalls, statues, a papal tiara, the intestines of 
cattle — and the blunt pillars of the stalagmites, growing 
up by hundreds from every corner or shelf of rock. 

The most remarkable feature of the cave, however — as 
of all the Franconian grottoes — is the abundance of fossil 
remains in every part of it. The attention of geologists 
was first directed to these extraordinary deposits by the 
naturalist Rosenmtiller, who explored and described them ; 
but they were afterward better known through the writ- 
ings of Cuvier and Humboldt. Here, imbedded in the 
incrusted stone, lie the skulls of bears and hyenas, the 
antlers of deer, elk, and antelopes, and the jaw-bones of 
mammoths. You find them in the farthest recesses of the 
cave, and the rock seems to be actually a conglomerate of 
them. Yet no entire skeleton of any animal, I was in- 
formed, has been found. Under the visible layers are other 
deeper layers of the same remains. How were all these 
beasts assembled here ? What overwhelming fear or neces. 
sity drove together the lion and the stag, the antelope and 
the hyena? and what convulsion, hundreds of centuries ago, 
buried them so deep ? There is some grand mystery of Crea. 
tion hidden in this sparry sepulchre of pre-adamite beasts. 



A WALK THKOUGII THE FHANCONIAN SAVITZERLAND. 299 

We passed on into the second and third chambers, 
where the stalactites assume other and more unusual forms, 
such as curtains, chandeliers, falling fringes of lily-leaves, 
and embroidered drapery, all of which are thin, transparent, 
snowy-white, and give forth a clear, bell-like tone when 
struck. The cave is curious and beautiful rather than 
grand. The guide informed me that I had penetratecl 
two thousand feet from the entrance, but this I could not 
believe. Eight hundred feet would be nearer the mark. On 
returning, the first effect of daylight on the outer arches 
of the cavern transmuted them into golden glass, and the 
wild landscape of the gorge was covered with a layer of 
crystal fire so dazzling that I could scarcely look upon it. 

By this time it was ten o'clock, and the heat increasing 
every moment : it was 90° in the shade. An hour's walk 
over a bare, roasting upland brought me to the AYiesent 
valley and the town of Waischenfeld, which I reached in 
a state of complete exhaustion. Here, how^ever, there was 
an omnibus to Bayreuth. My guide and baggage-bearer 
w^as an old fellow of sixty, who had waited upon me the 
evening before in Pottenstein, and besides had fallen in the 
street and broken his pipe while going to the baker's for 
my breakfast : so I gave him a florin and a half (60 cents). 
But I was hardly prepared for the outburst which followed : 
" Thank you, and Heaven reward you, and God return it to 
you, and Our Dear Lady take care of you ! Oh, but I will 
pray ever so many paternosters for j^ou, until you reach 
home again. Oh, that you may get back safely ! Oh, that 
you may have long life ! Oh, that you may be rich . Oh, 
that you may keep your healtli ! Oh, thai I might go on 



SOO AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

with you, and never stop ! But you're a noble lordship ! 
It isn't me that likes vulgar people : I won't have nothing 
to do with 'em : it's the fine, splendid gentleman like your- 
self that it does me good to be with !" With that he took 
my hand, and, bending over, kissed me just under the right 
eye before I knew what he was after. He then left ; and 
when I came to pay my bill I found that he had ordered 
dinner and beer at my expense ! 

I waited at Waischenfeld until late in the afternoon, and 
then took the post for Bayreuth. The upper valley of the 
Wiesent exhibits some remarkable rock-forms; but they 
become less and less frequent, the valley widens, and finally, 
at the village of Blankenstein, the characteristics of the 
Franconian Switzerland, in this direction, disappear. The 
soil, however, is much richer, and the crops were wonder- 
fully luxuriant. We passed a solitary chapel by the road- 
side, renowned as a place of pilgrimage. " The people call 
it die Kabel^^'^ said my fellow-passenger, a Bayreuther. 
*'If you were to say Kapelle [chapel], they wouldn't know 
what you meant." The votive offerings placed there are 
immediately stolen ; the altar-ornaments are stolen ; even 
the bell is stolen from the tower. 

At last the Fichtelgebirge (Fir-Mountains) — the central 
chain of Franconia — came in sight, and the road began to 
descend toward the valley of Bayreuth. My fellow-pas- 
senger proposed that we should alight at the commencement 
of a park called the Phantasie^ belonging to Duke Alexan- 
der of Wtirtemberg, and he would conduct me through to 
the other end, where the 'omnibus would wait for us. We 
entered a charming park, every foot of which betrayed the 



A WALK THROUGH THE FP.AXCOXIAX SWITZERLAND. 301 

most exquisite taste and the most tender care. Xowhere 
could be found smoother gravel, greener turf, brighter flow- 
ers, or a more artistic disposition of trees, fountains, statues, 
and flower-beds. Presently we reached a stately Italian 
palace of yellow stone, with a level, blossomy terrace in 
front, overhanging a deep valley, which seemed to have been 
brought bodily from Switzerland. In the bottom was a 
lake, bordered by the greenest meadows ; the opposite hill 
was wooded with dark firs, and every house which could 
be seen was Swiss in its form. Two men were on the ter- 
race, looking over the heavy stone balustrade — one of them 
a very stout, strong figure, with a massive gray beard. 
"Ah," said my comf)anion, "there is the Duke himself!" 
His Highness, seeing us, returned our salutes very politely, 
and then slid behind a bush. " He always does that," said 
the Bayreuther, " when strangers come: he goes away lest 
they should be embarrassed, and not see as much as they 
wish." This is really the extreme of politeness. The Duke's 
wife was the Princess Marie d'Orleans, that gifted daughter 
of Louis Philippe, whose statue of Joan of Arc is in the 
Versailles Gallery. She died, however, not in consequence 
of excessive devotion to her art, as is often stated, but from 
a cold contracted after her first confinement. Duke Alex- 
ander has never married again. 

The Phantasie struck me as being one of the most exqui- 
site specimens of landscape gardening in Germany. It is 
an illustration of what may be accomplished by simply 
assisting nature — by following her suggestions rather than 
forcing her to assume a new character. 

As we approached Bayreuth my friend said : " Now 1 



302 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

will try and show you the grave of Jean Paul (Richter).'' 

But the foliage in the cemetery was too thick, and I only 

thought I saw the top of a black marble tombstone. " I 

remember him very well," he continued. " When I was a 

boy I often saw him on his way to Frau RoUwenzel's. He 

wore a wide coat, and always had a bottle of wine in his 

pocket. One hand he held behind him, and carried a stick 

in the other. Sometimes he would stop and take a drink 

of wine. I remember his funeral, which took place by 

torch-light. He was a most beautiful corpse ! His widow 

gave me one of his vests, a white one, with embroidery 

upon it, and I was fool enough to let it go out of my hands ; 

I shall never forgive myself for that. But then, nobody in 

JBayreuth thought he was a great manP And this was 

said of Jean Paul, the greatest German humorist ! There 

is a melancholy moral in the remark. 

Bayreuth is a stately town for its size (the population is 

some 18,000) ; the streets are broad, the houses large and 

massive ; but over all there is an air of departed grandeur 

like Ferrara, Ravenna, and the other deserted Italian capi- 

> 
tals. In the former century it had an ostentatious court — 

its Margraves, no doubt, considered themselves Grands 

Monarques in miniature, and surrounded themselves with 

pompous ceremonial — but all this is over. ISTow and then 

a curious stranger arrives, and he passes with scarce a 

glance the palace of the old rulers on his way to the statue 

of the grand plebeian, Jean Paul Friedrich Richter. At 

least the latter was the only object in the city which Z cared 

to see. It is of bronze, colossal, and from Schwanthaler's 

model. The poet is represented as leaning against a tree, 



A WALK THROUGH THE FKAN^CONIAN SWITZERLAND. S03 

with a pencil iu one hand and a note-book in the other, 
while his head is slightly lifted, as if with the inspiration of 
a new idea. But it is by no means a great work. 

In spite of the heat (92° in the shade) I walked out to 
the Hermitage, a summer resort of the Margraves, about 
four miles from the city. The road thither is an unbroken 
avenue of magnificent lindens, from w^hich, as the ground 
gradually rises, you have wide views of the surrounding 
country. On the summit of the ridge stands the famous 
coffee-house, formerly kept by Frau Rollwenzel. On a 
tablet beside the door are the words : " Hier dichtete Jean 
PauV (Here Jean Paul wrote his works.) He had a 
garret room in the little low house, and it was his habit for 
many years to walk out from Bayreuth in the morning, and 
write there all day, returning in the evening. I climbed 
the steep, dark stair-case, and entered his room, a narrow 
den, with two windows looking toward the Fichtelgebirge. 
Every thing is kept in precisely the same condition as dur- 
ing his life. There is the same old calico sofa, the same 
deal table and rude book-shelf which he used. In the table- 
drawer is one of his manuscript works : " Remarks About 
Us Fools.'' The custodian informed me that he had been 
offered 300 florins (|120) for it by an Englishman. Over 
the sofa hangs a portrait of Jean Paul, under which is a 
gmaller one of Frau RoUweazel. 

In a quarter of an hour more I reached the Hermitage, 
which I found entirely deserted. Laborers and loafers alike 
had fled from the unusual heat. In the deep avenues of the 
park, where the sunshine, passing through triple layers of 
beech-leaves, took the hue of dark-green glass, I found a 



S04 Ar HOME AXD ABROAD. 

grateful coolness ; but the fountains, the sand-stone dra^ 
gons, and rococo flower-beds in front of a semicircular tern- , 
pie of rough mosaic, dedicated to the Sun, basked in an in- 
tense Persian heat. The god really had visited his altar. 
Here there are very remarkable jeux d'eau y but I confess, 
with humiliation, that I had not sufficient energy remaining 
to find the person who had them in charge, and thus did 
not see their performance. The water, I was told, comes 
forth from all sorts of unexpected places ; forms suns, 
moons, and stars in the air ; spouts from the trees ; spirts 
out of the bushes ; and so envelops the beholder in a foun- 
tain-chaos that he is lucky if he escapes without a drench- 
ing. There is one seat in j)articular which the stranger is 
directed to take, in order to obtain the best view. Woe 
to him if he obey ! All the trees and rocks around fling 
their streams upon him. 

The Hermitage is a good specimen of what is called in 
Germany the Zopf (Queue) style — the quintessence of for- 
mality. Its position, on the opposite side of, and equidis- 
tant from, Bayreuth, challenges a comparison with the 
Phantasie, and the diflerence is just this : in the Phantasie 
one sees that Nature is beloved — in the Hermitage, that she 
is patronized with lofty consideration. 

Returning to Bayreuth, I took the railroad to a little 
town called Markt-Schorgast, in order to enter the Fichtel- 
gebirge from the most approved point. Here I tried to 
procure a man to carry my sack to Berneck, some three 
miles distant, but only succeeded in obtaining a very small 
boy. " Really," said I, when the mite made his appear- 
ance, "he can never carry it." "Let me see," said the 



A WALK THROUail THE FRANr.OXIAN SWITZERLAND. 305 

station-master, lifting the sack; "Ja loohl^ that's nothing 
for him. He could run with it !" True enough, the boy 
put it into a basket, shouldered it, and trotted off as brisk 
as a grasshopper. The load was larger than himself, and I 
walked after him with a sense of shame. There was I, a 
broad-shouldered giant in comparison, puffing, and sweating, 
and groaning, finding even my umbrella troublesome, and 
the poor little pigmy at my side keeping up a lively quick- 
step with his bare feet on the hot road. 

We crossed a burning hill into a broad, shallow valley, 
with a village called Wasserknoten (the water-knots). Be- 
yond this valley contracted into a glen, shaded with dark 
fir-woods, which overhung slopes of velvet rather than 
grass, they wore so even and lustrous a green. After a 
while the ruins of Hohen-berneck (High Bear's Corner), 
consisting of one square tower, eighty feet high, appeared 
on the crest of the hill. The town is squeezed into the bot- 
tom of the glen, w^iich is only wide enough for a single 
street, more than a mile long. I was so thoroughly fatigued 
when I reached the post-inn at the farther end of the place 
that I gave up all thoughts of going further. 

The landlord made much of me on learning that I was an 
American. He not only regaled me with beer, but took me 
to see another Beraecker, who had been in England, India, 
and China. Several " cwre-guests" joined the company, and 
I was obliged to give them a history of the Southern Rebel- 
lion, which was no easy matter, as so much incidental expla.. 
nation was necessary. In Berneck there is a frequented 
whey-cure. In fact, there are few towns in Germany with- 
out a "cure" of some kind. Whey-cures, water-cures, 



306 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

grape-cures, hunger-cures, cider-cures, pine-needle-cures, 
salt-cures, and herb-cures flourish in active rivalry. In 
addition to all these the beer-cure is universally employed. 

I had engaged a man to be ready in the morning to 
accompany me to Bischofsgrtin, ten miles further ; but the 
man turned out to be an old woman. However, it made 
little difference, as she walked quite as fast with her load as 
I was willing to walk without one. The same temperature 
continued ; there was not a cloud in the sky, and a thin, 
silvery shimmer of heat in the air and over the landscape. 
We followed the course of the young Main, at first through 
a wdde, charming valley, whose meadows of grass and flow- 
ers fairly blazed in the sunshine, while on either hand tow- 
ered the dark blue-green forests of fir. Shepherds with 
their flocks w^ere on the slopes, and the little goose-girls 
drove their feathered herds along the road. One of them 
drew a wagon in which a goose and a young child were 
sitting cozily together. The cuckoo sang in all the woods, 
and no feature of life failed which the landscape suggested, 
unless it w^ere the Tyrolean yodel. After an hour's hard 
walking the valley became a steep gorge, up which the road 
wound through continuous forests. 

The scenery was now thoroughly Swiss in its character, 
and charmed me almost to forgetfulness of my weak and 
bruised knees. Still, I was heartily rejoiced when we 
reached Bischofsgrtin (Bishop's-green), a village at the base 
of the Ochsenkopf, one of the highest summits of the Fich- 
telgebirge. Here a rampant golden-lion hung out, the w^el- 
come sigii of food and rest. Before it stood a carriage 
which had bt^ught a gentleman and three ladies — verj 



A WALK THROUGH THE FRA^'CONIAX SWITZERLAND. 307 

genial and friendly persons, although they spoke a most 
decided patois. They had just ordered dinner, and the 
huge stove at one end of the guests' room sent out a terri- 
ble heat. The landlord was a slow, peaceful old fellow, 
with that meek air which comes from conjugal subjugation. 
But his wife was a mixture of thunder, lightning, and hail. 
The first thing she did was to snatch a pair of red worsted 
shippers from a shelf; then she rubbed her bare feet against 
the edge of a chair to scrape off the sand, and, sitting down, 
pulled up her dress so as to show the greater part of a pair 
of very solid legs, and put on the slippers. "There !" said 
she, stamping until the tables rattled, "now comes my 
work. It's me that has it to do. Oh yes ! so many at once, 
and nothing in the house. Man ! and thou standest there, 
stock-still. Ach ! here, thou Barbel ! See there ! \Bang 
goes the kitchen door.] It's a cursed life! \Bang the 
other door.] Ach! Hai! Ho, there!" she shouted from 
the street. 

Just then came a hay-wagon from Berneck, with thirteen 
additional guests. The thunders again broke heavily, and 
for half an hour rolled back and forth, from kitchen to sta- 
ble, and from stable to kitchen, without intermission. The 
old peasants, with their h^Qx-seidls before them, winked at 
each other and laughed. I was getting hungry, but scarcely 
dared to ask for dinner. Finally, however, I appealed to 
the meek landlord. " Be so good as to wait a little," he 
whispered ; " it will come after a while." Presently his son 
came in with a newspaper, saying, " Mammy, there's t' 
Ziting (Zeitung)." " Get out o' my way !" she yelled. 
'•^ Ja^ jo^ I should read t' paper, shouldn't I ? Ha! Ho, 



808 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

there! Man! Barbel!" and the storm broke out afresh. 
I wish it were possible to translate the coarse, grotesque 
dialect of this region — which is to ^uve German what Irish 
is to English, and with as characteristic a flavor — but I 
know not how it could be done. 

Not quite so difficult would be the translation of an aris- 
tocratic poem, written in the Fremdenhuch^ two days before, 
by a sentimental baron. It might very well compare with 
Pope's "Lines by a Person of Quality." But no ; we have 
an ample supply of such stuff in our own language, and I 
will spare my readers. Bischofsgrtin is noted for its manu- 
facture of bottles and beads for rosaries. There is a glass 
furnace here which has been in steady operation for eight 
hundred years. I doubt whether anything about it has 
changed very much in that time. I peeped into it, and saw 
the men making bottles of a coarse texture and pale green- 
ish color, but the mouths of the furnaces, disclosing pits of 
white heat, speedily drove me away. Although the village 
is at least eighteen hundred feet above the sea, there was 
no perceptible diminution of the heat. 

The men were all in the hay-fields, and I was obliged to 
take a madel (maiden), as the landlord called her — a woman 
of fifty, with grown-up children. As the last thunders of 
the landlady of the Lion died behind us, the " maiden" said, 
" Ach ! my daughter can't stand it much longer. She's been 
there, in service, these five years ; and it's worse and worse. 
The landlady's a good woman when she don't drink, but 
drink she does, and pretty much all the time. She's from 
Schonbrunn : she was a mill-daughter^ and her husband a 
tavern-son^ from the same place. It isn't good when 2 



A WALK THKOUGH THE FKANCONIAN SWITZERLAND. 309 

woman drinks schnapps, except at weddings and funerals ; 
and as for wine, we poor people can't think o' that !" 

It was near three o'clock, and we had twelve miles 
through the mountains to Wunsiedel. Our road led through 
a valley between the Schneeberg and the Ochsenkopf, both 
of which mountains were in full view, crowned with dark 
firs to their very summits. I confess I was disappointed in 
the scenery. The valley is so elevated that the mountains 
rise scarcely twelve hundred feet above it ; the slopes are 
gradual, and not remarkable for grace ; and the bold rock- 
formations are wanting. Coming up the Main-glen from 
Berneck, the lack of these features was atoned for by the 
wonderful beauty of the turf. Every landscape seemed to 
be new-carpeted, and with such care that the turf was 
turned under and tacked down along the edges of the 
brooks, leaving no bare corner anywhere. If the sunshine 
had been actually woven into its texture it could not have 
been brighter. The fir-woods had a bluish-green hue, pur- 
ple in the shadows. But on the upper meadows over which 
I now passed the grass was in blossom, whence they took 
a brownish tinge, and there were many cleared spots which 
still looked ragged and naked. 

We soon entered the forest at the foot of the Ochsenkopf, 
and walked for nearly an hour under the immense trees. 
The ground was carpeted with short whortleberry-bushes, 
growing so thickly that no other plant was to be seen. 
Beyond this wood lay a rough, mossy valley, which is one 
of the water-sheds between the Black Sea and the German 
Ocean, The fountains of the Main and the Nab are within 
Minie rifle-shot of each other. Here the path turned to the 



310 AT UOME AND ABROAD. 

left, leading directly up the side of the mountain. In the 
intense heat, and with my shaky joints, the ascent was a 
terrible toil. Up, and up we went, and still up, until an 
open patch of emerald pasture, with a chalet in the centre, 
showed that the summit was reached. A spring of icy crys- 
tal bubbled up in the grass, and I was kneeling to drink, 
when a smiling hausfrau came out with a glass goblet. I 
returned it, with a piece of money, after drinking. " What 
is that ?" said she. " No, no ; water must not be paid for!" 
and handed it back. "Well," said I, giving it to her flaxen- 
headed boy, "it is not meant as pay, but as a present for 
this youngster." "God protect you on your journey !" was 
her hearty farewell. 

The ridge, I should guess, was about twenty-eight hun- 
dred feet above the sea-level. The descent, I found, was a 
very serious matter. I was obliged to limp down slowly, 
with a crippled step, which in itself was no slight fatigue. 
When the feet have not free play it seems to tire some 
unused internal muscle — or, to judge by my own sensations, 
the very marrow of the bones. We had a tough foot-path 
through a dense forest for half an hour, and then emerged 
upon a slanting meadow, w^hence there was a lovely view" 
of the country to the east of the Fichtelgebirge, with Wun- 
siedel away in the distance, a bright island-spot in the sea 
of dark-green firs. Down on the right was a broad, rich 
valley, in which ponds of water shone clear and blue ; vil- 
lages dotted the cultivated slopes, and the wooded heights 
of the Luisenburg and. the Kosseine rose beyond. Here 
I began to find again the scenery of Richter's works, which 
had struck me so forcibly in the vicinity of Bayreuth. 



A WALK THROUGH THE FEANCONIAN SWITZERLAND. 3 i 1 

By the time we had reached the bottom of the momitain 
and left the forest behind us, I had almost touched the 
limits of my endurance. But there was still a good three 
miles before us. The " maiden," with twenty pounds on 
her back, marched along bravely ; I followed, a disabled 
veteran, halting every now and then to rest and recruit. 
All things must have an end, and it is not every day's jour- 
ney that winds up with a comfortable inn. I am not sure 
but that the luxury of the consecutive bath, beef-steak, 
and bed, which I enjoyed, compensated for all the pain 
endured, 

A shower the next morning freshened the air, diminished 
theheat,and put somelittle elasticity into my bruised muscles. 
It was a gala day for Wunsiedel. The Turners of the place, 
who had formed themselves into a fire-company, performed 
in the market-square, with engines, ladders, hose, etc., 
complete. Early in the morning the Turners of Hof and 
their female friends arrived in six great hay- wagons, covered 
with arches of birch boughs and decorated with the Bava 
rian colors. There was a sham fire : roofs were scaled, lad- 
ders run up to the windows, the engines played, the band 
performed, and the people shouted. The Httle city w^as 
unusually lively ; the inns were overflowing, and squads 
of visitors, with green boughs in their hats, filled the 
streets. 

After dinner I undertook an excursion to the Luisenburg, 
notwithstanding I felt so decrepit at starting that I would 
have given a considerable sum to anybody who would have 
insured my coming back upon my own legs. A handsome 
linden avenue led up the long hill to the southward of Wun- 



312 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

siedel, from the crest of which we saw Alexandersbad, at 
the foot of the mountain, and seeming to lean upon the 
lower edge of its fir-forests. By a foot-path through fields 
which were beds of blossoms — hare-bell, butter-cup, phlox, 
clover, daisy, and corn-flower intermixed — we reached the 
stately water-cure establishment in three-quarters of an 
hour. I first visited the mineral spring, which, the guide 
informed me, was strongly tinctured with saltpetre. I was 
therefore surprised to hear two youths, who were drinking 
when we came up, exclaim, " Exquisite !" " delicious !" But 
when I drank, I said the same thing. The taste w^as veri- 
tably fascinating, and I took glass after glass, with a con- 
tinual craving for more. 

This watering-place, once so frequented, is now compara- 
tively deserted. But fifty guests were present, and they 
did not appear to be very splendid persons. The grounds, 
however, were enlivened by the presence of the youths and 
maidens from Hof. I visited the Kurhaus^ looked into the 
icy plunge-baths of the Hydropathic establishment, tasted 
some very hard water, and then took the broad birchen 
avenue which climbs to the Luisenburg. On entering the 
forest I beheld a monument erected to commemorate the 
presence of Fred. Wilhelm III. and Louisa of Prussia, in 
1805. " On this very spot," said my guide, " the King and 
Queen, with King Max. I. of Bavaria and the Emperor of Aus- 
tria (!), were talking together, when the news came to them 
that Napoleon w^as in Vienna. They hired a man to go to 
Nuremberg and see whether it was true. The man — he is 
still living, and we shall probably see him this afternoon [in 
fact, I did see him] — walked all the way [ninety English 



A WALK THROUGH THE FEANCONIAN SWITZERLAND. 313 

miles] in twenty-four hours, then rested twenty-four more, 
and walked back in the same time. Then the King of 
Prussia immediately went home and decided to fight against 
I^apoleon, which was the cause of the battle of Leipzig !" 

The road slowly but steadily ascended, and in half an 
hour we reached the commencement of the Luisenburg. 
Huge, mossy rocks, piled atop of one another in the wildest 
confusion, overhung the way, and the firs, which grew 
w^herever their trunks could be wedged in, formed a sun- 
proof canopy above them. This labyrinth of colossal 
granite boulders, called the Luisenburg (or, more properly, 
t\iQ Lugsburg^ its original name), extends to the summit 
of the mountain, a distance of eleven hundred feet. It ia a 
wilderness of Titanic grottoes, arches, and even abutments 
of regular masonry, of astonishing magnitude. I have seen 
similar formations in Saxony, but none so curiously con- 
torted and hurled together. 

Although this place has been, for the j)ast eighty years, a 
favorite summer resort of the Bavarians, it has scarcely been 
heard of outside of Germany. Jean Paul, during his residence 
at Wunsiedel, frequently came hither, and his name has been 
given to one of the most striking rocky chambers. There 
is an abundance of inscriptions, dating mostly from the last 
decade of the past century, and exhibiting, in their over- 
strained sentimentalism, the character of the generation 
w^hich produced " Werther," " Paul and Virginia," and 
" The Children of the Abbey." In Klinger's Grotto, the 
roof of which is formed by an immense block fifty-four feet 
long and forty-four feet broad, there is a tablet, erected in 
1794 by a certain Herr von Carlo witz, on which he says : 

14 



314 AT HOilE AXD ABKOAD. 

" My wish is to enjoy my life unnoticed, and happily mar- 
ried, and to be worthy of the tears of the good when I fear- 
lessly depart !" This is all very well ; but it can scarcely 
be expected that for centuries to come the world will care 
much whether Herr von Carlowitz was happily married 
or not. 

Climbing upward through the labyrinthine clefts of the 
rocks, we find everywhere similar records. The names 
" Otto, Therese, Amalie," deeply engraved, proclaim the 
fact that the present King of Greece met his two sisters 
here, in 1836. Just above them six enormous blocks are 
piled one upon the other, reaching almost to the tops of the 
firs. This was a favorite resort of Louisa of Prussia, and 
the largest rock, accordingly, bears the following descrip- 
tion : " When we behold, the mild rays of the lovely spring 
sun shining on this rocky colossus, we think on the gentle 
glance of blissful grace wherewith Louisa to-day made us 
happy : and the rock itself suggests our love and fidelity to 
her!" As a specimen of aristocratic sentiment, this is 
unparalleled. Beyond this point the immense masses lean 
against each other, blocking up the path and sloping for- 
ward, high overhead, as if in the act of falling. In 1798 
somebody placed the inscription here, "Thus far shalt thou 
come, and no farther ;" but under it is carved, " I made the 
attempt, and behold! I went farther. 1804." A ladder 
enables you to reach an opening, whence the path, travers- 
ing sunless clefts, crawling through holes and scaling gigan- 
tic piles of the formless masonry of the Deluge, reaches the 
summit. Here, on a lonely rock, still stands a single tower 
of the old robber-fortress which was destroyed in the thir- 



A WALK THROUGH THE FEANCO^'IAN SAVITZEELAND. 315 

teenth century by Philip of Streitberg, in revenge for the 
abduction of his bride by the knight of the Lugsburg. 

From the tower we had fine views to the north, east, 
and west. The day could not have been more fortunately 
chosen. The air was unusually clear, and the distant 
villages showed with remarkable distinctness, yet a light 
golden shimmer was spread over the landscape, and, by 
contrast with the dark firs around us, it seemed like ar 
illuminated picture painted on a transparent canvas. 

On the side of one of the largest boulders is an inscrip- 
tion recommending those who are at enmity to mount the 
rock and behold the landscape, as a certain means of recon- 
ciliation. It records the meeting of two estranged friends, 
who first looked around them and then fell into each 
other's arms, without a word. This was truly German. 
Enemies of Anglo-Saxon blood, I am afraid, would have 
tried to push each other off the rock instead of allowing 
the scenery to reconcile them. One more inscription, the 
climax of sentiment, and I will cease to copy : " N^ature is 
great. Love is divine. Longing is infinite, Dreams are rich ; 
only the human heart is poor. And yet — fortunate is he 
who feels this, miserable he who does not even suspect it. 
Thou losest a dream and winn'st — Rest !" To be candid, 
silly as many of these inscriptions were, they gave "a human 
interest to the spot. Even the record of human vanity is 
preferable to the absence of any sign of man. 

Feeling myself in tolerable condition, I went on, along the 
crest of the mountain, to the Burgstein, a mass of rock 
one hundred feet high, and crowning a summit nearly 
three thousand feet above the sea. The top is about seven 



316 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

by nine feet in compass, and inclosed by a strong railing to 
prevent the visitor from being blown off. Hence I looked 
far down into the Upper Palatinate of Bavaria, away to 
the blue Bohemian mountains, and, to the west, on all the 
dark summits of the Fichtelgebirge. The villages shone 
white and red in the sun ; the meadow-ponds were sapphires 
set in emerald, and the dark-purple tint of the forests 
mottled the general golden-green lustre of the landscape. 
A quarter of an hour further is the Haberstein, a wonderful 
up-building of rock, forming a double tower, from eighty 
to a hundred feet high. 

On returning to Wunsiedel I did not neglect to visit 
Jean Paul's birth-place — a plain, substantial house, adjoin- 
ing the church. Here the street forms a small court, in 
the centre of which, on a pedestal of granite, stands a 
bronze bust of the great man. The inscription is : " Wun- 
siedel to her Jean Paul Fr. JRichtery Nothing could be 
simpler or more ajjpropriate. In front, the broad street, 
lined with large, cheerful yellow or pink houses, stretches 
down the hill and closes with a vista of distant mountains. 
The place is very gay, clean, and attractive, notwithstand- 
ing its humble position. Jean Paul describes it completely, 
when he says ; " I am glad to have been born in thee, thou 
bright little town !" 

I was aroused the next morning by the singing of a 
hymn, followed by the beating of a drum. Both sounds 
proceeded from a company of twenty or more small boys, 
pupils of a school at Ebersdorf (in the Franconian Forest), 
who, accompanied by their teachers, were making a tour on 
foot through the Fichtelgebirge. The sight admonished 



A WALK THROUGH THE FRANCOXIAN SWITZERLAND. 3 17 

me to resume my march, as I intended going southward to 
Kemnath, in the Upper Palatinate. The wind blew fresh 
from the southwest, and heavy black clouds filled the sky. 
My road led up a valley between the twin mountain-groups, 
crossing a ridge which divides the waters of Europe. The 
forests were as black as ink under the shadows of the 
clouds, and the distant hiUs had a dark indigo color, which 
gave a remarkable tone to the landscape. Take a picture 
of Salvator Rosa and substitute blue for brown, and you 
may form some idea of it. 

Presently the rain came, at first in scattering drops, but 
soon in a driving shower. My guide, to keep up my spirits, 
talked on and on in the broad Prankish dialect, which 
I could only comprehend by keeping all my faculties on 
a painful stretch. " Down in the Palatinate," said he, " the 
people speak a very difficult language. They cut off all 
the words, and bring out the pieces very fast." This was 
precisely what he himself did ! For instance, what German 
scholar could understand " widPr a weng renga .^" (wieder 
ein wenig Regen) — which was one of the clearest of his 
expressions. To beguile the rainy road he related to me 
the history of a band of robbers, who in the years 1845 
and '46 infested the Franconian mountains, and plundered 
the highways on all sides. 

By this time I had the Fichtelgebirge behind me, and 
the view opened southward, down the valley of the I^ab. 
The Hauhe Kulm^ an isolated basaltic peak, lifted its head 
in the middle of the landscape, and on the left rose the 
long, windy ridge of the Weissenstein. Here and there a 
rocky summit was crowned with the ruins of an ancient 



318 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

robber-castle. But the scene would have been frightful on 
canvas, it lay so bleak and rigid under the rainy sky. In 
two hours more I passed the boundary between Franconia 
and the Upper Palatinate. 

Here my Franconian excursion closes. The next day 
I reached Amberg, on the Eastern Bavarian Railway, 
having accomplished about a hundred miles on foot, to the 
manifest improvement of one knee at the expense of the 
other. But I had, in addition, a store of cheerful and 
refreshing experiences, and my confidence in the Walking. 
Cure is so little shaken that I propose, at some future time, 
trying a second experiment in the Bohemian Forest — a 
region still less known to the tourist, if possible, than the 
Franconian Switzerland. 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 



1. — ^The Hfdsoi^" and The Catskills. 

July, 1860. 
I HAVE been so often asked, " Where are you going 
next ?" and have so often answered, " I am going to travel 
at home," that what was at first intended for a joke has 
naturally resolved itself into a reality. The genuine travel- 
ler has a chronic dislike of railways, and if he be in addi- 
tion a lecturer, who is obliged to sit in a cramped position 
and breathe bad air for five months of the year, he is the 
less likely to prolong his Winter tortures through the Sum- 
mer. Hence, it is scarcely a wonder that, although I have 
seen so much of our country, I have travelled so little in it. 
T knew the Himalayas before I had seen the Green Moun- 
tains, the Cataracts of the Mle before Niagara, and the 
Libyan Desert before the Illinois prairies. I have never 
yet (let me make the disgraceful confession at the outset) 



32(5 AT HOME AXD ABEOAD. 

beheld the White Mountains, or Quebec, or the Saguenay, 
or Lake George, or Trenton Falls ! 

In all probability, I should now be at home, enjoying 
Summer indolence under the shade of my oaks, were it not 
for the visit of some European friends, who have come over 
to see the land which all their kindness could not make 
their friend forget. The latter, in fact, possesses a fair 
share of the national sensitiveness, and defended his 
country with so much zeal and magnificent assertions, that 
his present visitors were not a little curious to see whether 
their own impressions would correspond with his pictures. 
He, on the other hand, being anxious to maintain his own 
as well as his country's credit, offered his services as guide 
and showman to Our Mountains, Rivers, Lakes, and Cata- 
racts ; and this is how he (I, you understand) came to start 
upon the present journey. 

On the whole, I think it a good plan, not to see all your 
own country until after you have seen other lands. It is 
easy to say, with the school-girls, "I adore Nature !" — but 
he who adores, never criticises. " What a beautiful view !" 
every one may cry : " why is it beautiful ?'' would puzzle 
many to answer. Long study, careful observation, and 
various standards of comparison are necessary — as much so 
as in Art — to enable one to pronounce upon the relative 
excellence of scenery. I shall have, on this tour, the assist- 
ance of a pair of experienced, appreciative foreign eyes, in 
addition to my own, and you may therefore rely upon my 
giving you a tolerably impartial report upon American life 
and landscapes. 

When one has a point to carry, the beginning is evej-y 



TRAVELS AT HOME. *321 



thing. I therefore embarked with ray friends on a North 
River day-boat, at the Harrison-street pier. The calliope, 
or steam-organ attached to the machine, was playing " Jor- 
dan's a hard road to travel," with astonishing shrillness and 
power. " There's an American invention !" I exclaimed, in 
triumph ; " the waste steam, instead of being blown off, is 
turned into an immense hand-organ, and made to grind out 
this delightful music." By-and-by, however, came one of 
my companions, who announced : " I have discovered the 
origin of the music," and thereupon showed me a box of 
green wire-gauze, in which sat a slender youth, manipulat- 
ing a key-board with wonderful contortions. This dis- 
covery explained to us why certain passages were slurred 
over and others shrieked out with awful vehemence — a fact 
which we had previously attributed to the energy of the 
steam. 

Other disappointments awaited me. The two foregoing 
days had been insufferably warm — 92° in the shade — and 
we were all, at my recommendation, clad in linen. " This 
is just the weather for the Hudson," said I; "the motion 
of the boat will fan away the heat, while this intense sun- 
shine will beautify the shores." But, by the time we 
reached Weehawken, the north wind blew furiously, streak- 
ing the water with long ribands of foam ; we unpacked 
heavy shawls and coats, and were still half frozen. The air 
was so very clear and keen that the scenery was too distinct 
— a common fault of our American sky — destroying the 
charm of perspective and color. My friends would not 
believe in the actual breadth of the Hudson or the height 
of the Palisades, so near were the shores brought by the 

14^ 



322 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

lens of the air. The eastern bank, from Spuyten-DiTyvel 
to Tarrytown, reminded them of the Elbe between Ham- 
burg and Blankenese, a comparison which I found correct. 
Tappan and Haverstraw Bays made the impression I 
desired, and thenceforth I felt that our river would amply 
justify his fame. 

Several years had passed since I had seen the Hudson 
from the deck of a steamer. I found great changes, and 
for the better. The elegant summer residences of the New 
Yorkers, peeping out from groves, nestled in warm dells, 
or, most usually, crowning the highest points of the hills, 
now extend more than half-way to Albany. The trees 
have been judiciously spared, straggling woods carved into 
shape, stony slopes converted into turf, and, in fact, the 
long landscape of the eastern bank gardened into more 
perfect beauty. Those Gothic, Tuscan, and Norman villas, 
with their air of comfort and home, give an attractive, 
human sentiment to the scenery, and I would not exchange 
them for the castles of the Rhine. 

Our boat was crowded, mostly with Southerners, who 
might be recognised by their lank, sallow faces, and the 
broad, semi-negro accent with which they spoke the Ame- 
rican tongue. How long, I wondered, before these Chios 
(the California term for Southerners — an abbreviation of 
Chivalry) start the exciting topic, the discussion of which 
they so deprecate in us ? Not an hour had elapsed, when, 
noticing a small crowd on the forward deck, I discovered 
half a dozen Chivs expatiating to some Northern youth on 
the beauties of Slavery. The former were very mild and 
guarded in their expressions, as if fearful that the outrages 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 323 

inflicted on Il^orthern men in the Soutli might be returned 
upon them. " Why,'' said one of them, " it's our interest 
to treat our slaves well; if we lose one, we lose a thousand 
dollars — you may be shore of that. Xo man will be so much 
of a d — d fool as to waste his own property in that way." 

" Just as we take care of our horses," remarked a IS^'orth- 
ern youth ; " it's about the same thing, isn't it ? " 

" Well — yes — it is pretty much the same, only we treat 
'em more humanitary, of course. Then agin," he con- 
tinued, " when you've got two races together, a higher and 
a lower, what are you gwine to do ? " — but you have read 
the rest of his remarks in a speech of Caleb Gushing, and I 
need not repeat them. 

The Highlands, of course, impressed my friends as much 
as I could have Avished. It is customary among our tour- 
ists to deplore the absence of ruins on those heights — a 
very unnecessary regret, in my opinion. To show that we 
had associations fully as inspiring as those connected with 
feudal warfare, I related the story of Stony Point, and 
Andre's capture, and pointed out, successively, Kosciusko's 
Monument, old Fort Putnam, and Washington's Head- 
quarters. Sunny side was also a classic spot to my friends, 
nor was Idlewild forgotten. " Oh," said a young lady, as 
we were passing Cold Spring, " where does the poet Morris 
live ? '' Although I was not the person appealed to, I took 
the liberty of showing her the dwelling of the warrior- 
bard. " You will observe," I added, " that the poet has 
a full view of Cro'nest, which he has immortalized in song. 
Yonder willow, trailing its branches in the water, is said 
to have suggested to him that gem, 



324 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

" 'Near the lake where drooped the willow.' " 

" Oh, Clara ! " said the young lady to her companion, 
" isn't it — isitH it sweet V" 

In due time, we reached Catskill, and made all haste to 
get off for the Mountain House. There are few summits 
so easy of access — certainly no other mountain resort in 
our country where the facilities of getting up and down are 
so complete and satisfactory. The journey would be tame, 
however, were it not for the superb view of the mountains, 
rising higher, and putting on a deeper blue, with every 
mile of approach. The intermediate country has a rough, 
ragged, incomplete look. The fields are stony, the houses 
mostly untidy, the crops thin, and the hay (this year, at 
least) scanty. Even the woods appear stunted : fine tree- 
forms are rare. My friends were so charmed by the pur- 
ple asclepiads, which they had never before seen except in 
green-houses, the crimson-spiked sumachs, and the splendid 
fire-lilies in the meadows, that they overlooked the want 
of beauty in the landscape. 

On reaching the foot of the mountain, the character of the 
scenery entirely changes. The trees in Rip Yan Winkle's 
dell are large and luxuriantly leaved, while the backward 
views, enframed with foliage and softly painted by the blue 
pencil of the air, grow more charming as you ascend. Ere 
long, the shadow of the towering North Mountain was 
flung over us, as we walked up in advance of the laboring 
horses. The road was bathed in sylvan coolness ; the noise 
of an invisible stream beguiled the steepness of the way ; 
emerald ferns sprang from the rocks, and the red blossoms 
of the showy rubus and the pale blush of the laurel bright- 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 325 

ened the gloom of the undergrowth. It is fortunate that 
the wood has not been cut away, and but rave glimpses 
of the scenes below are allowed to the traveller. Lauding 
in the rear- of the Mountain House, the huge white mass 
of which completely shuts out the view, thirty paces bring 
you to the brink of the rock, and you hang suspended, as 
if by magic, over the world. 

It was a quarter of an hour before sunset — perhaps the 
best moment of the day for the CatskiU panorama. The 
shadows of the mountain-tops reached nearly to the Hudson, 
while the sun, shining directly down the Clove, interposed 
a thin wedge of golden lustre between. The farm-houses 
on a thousand hills beyond the river sparkled in the glow, 
and the Berkshire Mountains swam in a luminous, rosy 
mist. The shadows strode eastward at the rate of a league 
a minute as we gazed; the forests darkened, the wheat- 
fields became brown, and the houses glimmered like extin- 
guished stars. Then the cold north wind blew, roaring in 
the pines, the last lurid purple faded away from the distant 
hills, and in half an hour the world below was as dark and 
strange and spectral, as if it were an unknown planet we 
were passing on our journey through space. 

The scene from Catskill is unlike any other mountain 
view that I know. It is imposing through the very sim- 
plicity of its features. A line drawn from north to south 
through the sphere of vision divides it into two equal 
parts. The western half is mountain, falling off in a line of 
rock parapet; the eastern is a vast semi-circle of blue land- 
scape, half a mile lower. Owing to the abrupt rise of the 
mountain, the nearest farms at the base seem to be almost 



326 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

under one's feet, and the country as far as the Hudson 
presents the same appearance as if seen from a balloon. 
Its undulations have vanished ; it is as flat as a pancake ; 
and even the bold line of hills stretching toward Saugerties 
can only be distinguished by the color of the forests upon 
them. Beyond the river, although the markings of the 
hills are lost, the rapid rise of the country from the water 
level is very distinctly seen : the whole region appears to 
be lifted on a sloping plane, so as to expose the greatest 
230ssible surface to the eye. On the horizon, the Hudson 
Highlands, the Berkshire and Green Mountains, unite their 
chains, forming a continuous line of misty blue. 

At noonday, under a cloudless sky, the picture is rather 
monotonous. After the eye is accustomed to its grand, 
aerial depth, one seeks relief in spying out the character- 
istics of the separate farms, or in watching specks (of the 
size of fleas) crawling along the highways. Yonder man 
and horse, going up and down between the rows of corn, 
resemble a little black bug on a bit of striped calico. 
When the sky is full of moving clouds, however, nothing 
can be more beautiful than the shifting masses of light and 
shade, traversing such an immense field. There are, also, 
brief moments when the sun or moon are reflected in 
the Hudson — when rainbows bend slantingly beneath you, 
striking bars of seven-hued flame across the landscape — 
Avhen, even, the thunders march below, and the fountains 
of the rain are under your feet. 

What most impressed my friends was the originality of 
the view. Familiar with the best mountain scenery of 
Europe, they could find nothing with which to compare it, 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 327 

As my movements dm-ing this journey are guided entirely 
by their wishes, I was glad when they said : " Let us stay 
here another day !'' 

At the foot of the Catskill, the laurel showed its dark-red 
seed vessels ; halfway up, the last faded blossoms were 
dropping off; but, as we approached the top, the dense 
thickets w^ere covered with a glory of blossoms. Far and 
near, in the caverns of shade under the pines and oaks and 
maples, flashed whole mounds of flowers, white and blush- 
color, dotted with the vivid pink of the crimped buds. 
The finest Cape azaleas and ericas are scarcely more beau- 
tiful than our laurel. Between those mounds bloomed the 
flame-colored lily, scarcely to be distinguished, at a little 
distance, from the breast of an oriole. The forest scenery 
was a curious amalgamation of Norway and the tropics. 
" What a land, w^hat a climate," exclaimed one of my 
friends, " that can support such inconsistencies !" " After 
this," I replied, " it will perhaps be easier for you to com- 
prehend the apparent inconsistencies, the opposing elements, 
which you will find in the American character." 

The next morning we walked to the Katterskill Falls. 
Since my last visit (in 1851) a handsome hotel — the Laurel 
House — has been erected here by Mr. Schutt. The road 
into the Clove has also been improved, and the guests at 
the Mountain House make frequent excursions into the wild 
heart of the Catskill region, especially to Stony Clove, 
fourteen miles distant, at the foot of the blue mountain 
which faces you as you look down the Katterskill glen. 
The Falls are very lovely (I think that is the proper word)— 
they will bear seeing many times— but don't believe those 



328 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

who tell you that they surpass Niagara. Some people have 
a habit of pronouncing every last view they see: "the 
finest thing in the world !" 

The damming up of the water, so much deprecated by 
the romantic, strikes me as an admirable arrangement. 
When the dam is full, the stream overruns it and you have 
as much water as if there were no dam. Then, as you 
stand at the head of the lower fall, watching the slender 
scarf of silver fluttering down the black gulf, comes a 
sudden dazzling rush from the summit ; the fall leaps away 
from the half-way ledge where it lingered; bursting in 
rockets and shooting stars of spray on the rocks, and you 
have the full efiect of the stream when swollen by spring 
thaws. Really, this temporary increase of volume is the 
finest feature of the fall. 

No visitor to Catskill should neglect a visit to the 
North and South Mountains. The views from these points, 
although almost identical with that from the house, have 
yet different foregrounds, and embrace additional segments 
of the horizon. The North Peak, I fancy, must have been 
in Bryant's mind, when he wrote his poem of " The 
Hunter." Those beautiful features, which hovered before 
the hunter's eyes, in the blue gulf of air, as he dreamed on 
the rock — are they not those of the same maiden who, 
rising from the still stream, enticed Goethe's " Fisher" into 
its waves ? — the poetic embodiment of that fascination 
which lurks in height and depth ? Opposite the North 
Rock, there is a weather-beaten pine, which springing from 
the mountain-side below, lifts its head just to the level of 
the rock, and not more than twelve feet in front of it. I 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 329 

never see it without feeling a keen desire to spring from 
the rock and lodge in its top. The Hanlon Brothers, or 
Blondin, I presume, would not have the least objection \o 
perform such a feat. 

In certain conditions of the atmosphere, the air between 
you and the lower world seems to become a visible fluid — 
an ocean of pale, crystalline blue, at the bottom of which 
the landscape lies. Peering down into its depths, you at 
last experience a numbness of the senses, a delicious wan- 
dering of the imagination, such as follow^s the fifth pipe of 
opium. Or, in the words of Walt. Whitman, you " loaf, 
and invite your soul." 

The guests we found at the Mountain House were rather 
a quiet company. Several families were quartered there 
for the season ; but it was perhaps too early for the even- 
ing hops and sunrise flirtations which I noticed ten years 
ago. Parties formed and strolled off quietly into the 
woods; elderly gentlemen sank into arm-chairs on the 
rocks, and watched the steamers on the Hudson; nurses 
pulled venturous children away from the precipice, and 
young gentlemen from afar sat on the veranda, and wrote 
in their note-Jbooks. You would not have guessed the 
number of guests, if you had not seen them at table. I 
found this quiet, this nonchalance, this " take care of your- 
self and let other people alone" characteristic very agree- 
able, and the difference, in this respect, since my last visit, 
leads me to hope that there has been a general improve- 
ment (which was highly necessary) in the public manners 
of the Americans. 



330 AT UO^B AND ABROAD. 



2. — ^Berkshire aisd Boston. 

We descended the mountain on the third day, in a lum- 
bering Troy coach, in company with a pleasant Quaker 
family, took the steamer to Hudson, dined there (indif- 
ferently), and then embarked for Pittsfield, which we made 
a stopping-place on the way to Boston. My masculine 
companion, who is a thorough European agriculturist, was 
much struck with the neglected capacities of the country 
through which we passed. His admiration of our agri- 
cultural implements is quite overbalanced by his deprecia- 
tion of our false system of rotation in crops, our shocking 
waste of manures, and general neglect of the economies of 
farming. I think he is about three-fourths right. 

The heat was intense when we left Hudson, but, during 
the thousand feet of ascent between that place and Pitts- 
field, we came into a fresher air. A thunder shower, an 
hour previous, had obligingly laid the dust, and hung the 
thickets with sparkling drops. The Taghkanic Mountains 
rose dark and clear above the rapid landscapes of the rail- 
road : finally old Greylock hove in sight, and a good hour 
before sunset we reached Pittsfield. As I never joined the 
noble order of the Sponge — the badge whereof so many 
correspondents openly sport — but pay my way regularly, 
like the non-corresponding crowd, my word may be impli- 
citly taken when I say that the Berkshire House is one of 
the quietest and pleasantest hotels in the country. 

Here let me say a word about hotels in general. The 
purpose of a tavern, hostel, inn, hotel, house, or whatever 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 331 

it may be called, is, I take it, to afford a temporary home 
for those who are away from home. Hence, that hotel 
only deserves the name, which allows each of its guests to 
do as he pleases, no one conflicting with the rights of the 
others. If I would not allow close, unventilated bed-rooms, 
lack of water, towels the size of a handkerchief, dirty sheets 
and general discomfort, in the home I build for myself, 
should I riot be permitted to eschew such things in the 
home I hire for a night? Should I not call for what I 
want, and have it, if it is to be had ? Should I, late 
arrived, and suffering from loss of sleep, be roused at day- 
light by a tremendous gong at my door, and be obliged to 
rush down to breakfast, under penalty of losing it alto- 
gether ? But in too many of our hotels the rule is the 
reverse. The landlord says, in practice: "This is my 
house : I have certain rules by which it is governed : if 
you pay me two dollars and a half a day, I will grant you 
the privilege of submitting to my orders." One is often 
received with a magnificent condescension, which says, as 
plainly as words : " See what a favor I am doing you, in 
receiving you into my house !" In reality the house, the 
furniture, the servants, do not belong to the landlord, but 
to the traveller. I intend some day to write an Essay on 
Hotels, in which I shall discuss the subject at length, and 
therefore will not anticipate it here. 

My friends were delighted with Pittsfield, which, in its 
summer dress, was new to me. "We spent so much of our 
time at the windows, watching the evening lights on the 
mountains, that it was unanimously resolved to undertake 
an excursion the next morninof before the arrival of the ex 



332 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

press train for Boston. We took an open carriage to the 
Hancock Settlement of Shakers, four miles west of the vil- 
lage. The roads were in splendid order, last night's rain 
having laid the dust, washed the trees, arid given the wooded 
mountains a deeper green. The elm, the characteristic tree 
of New England, charmed us by the variety and beauty of 
its forms. The elm, rather than the pine, should figure 
on the state banner of Massachusetts. In all other trees — 
the oak, the beech, the ash, the maple, the gum, and tulip 
trees, the pine, even — Massachusetts is surpassed by Penn- 
sylvania, Virginia, Ohio, and Kentucky, but the elm is a 
plume which will never be plucked from her bonnet. 

"Here!" said one of my companions, pointing to one of 
the many wooded knolls by the roadside, " is one of the 
immeasurable advantages which America possesses over 
Europe. Every one of these groves is a finished home, 
lacking only the house. What we must wait a century to 
get, what we must be rich in order to possess, is here cheap 
and universal. Build a house here or there, cut down a 
tree or two to let in the distant landscape, clear away some 
of the underwood, and you have a princely residence." 
Bear in mind, my fashionable readers, that my friend has 
only been six weeks in America ; that he has not yet learned 
the difference between a brown-stone front on Fifth Avenue 
and a clap-boarded house in the country ; that (I blush to 
say it) he prefers handsome trees out-of-doors to rosewood 
furniture in-doors, and would rather break his shins climb- 
ing the roughest hills than ride behind matched bays in a 
carriage ornamented with purchased heraldry. I admit 
his Avant of civilization, but I record this expression of his 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 333 

taste that you may smile at the absurdity of European 
ideas. 

Our approach to the Shaker settlement was marked by 
the superior evidences of neatness and care in cultivation. 
The road became an avenue of stately sugar maples ; on the 
right rose, in pairs, the huge, plain residences of the bre- 
thren and sisters — ugly structures, dingy in color, but scru- 
pulously clean and orderly. I believe the same aspect of 
order would increase the value of any farm five dollars an 
acre, so much more attractive would the buyer find the 
property ; but farmers generally don't understand this. "We 
halted, finally, at the principal settlement, distinguished by 
a huge circular stone barn. The buildings stood upon a lot 
grown with fresh turf, and were connected by flag -stone 
walks. Mats and scrapers at the door testified to the uni- 
versal cleanliness. While waiting in the reception-room, 
which was plain to barrenness, but so clean that its very 
atmosphere was sweet, I amused myself by reading some 
printed regulations, the conciseness and directness of which 
were refreshing. " Visitors," so ran the first rule, " must 
remember, that this is not a public-house. We have our 
regulations just as well as other people, and we expect that 
ours will be observed as others expect theirs to be." An- 
other was : " Those who obtain lodging, or who are fur- 
nished with meals at their own request, are expected to pay 
for the same.'' One of the most important, apparently, 
was this : " Married persons visiting the Family must oc- 
cupy separate apartments during the time of their stay." 

Presently, an ancient sister made her appearance. She 
wore a very plain book-muslin cap, and a coarse blue gown, 



334 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

which hung so straight to her feet that more than one 
under-garment was scarcely possible. She informed us, 
courteously, that curious strangers like ourselves were not 
usually admitted, but made an exception in favor of my 
companions, seeing they had come such a distance, and 
called one of the brethren to show us the barn. This is 
really a curious structure. The inside is an immense mow, 
divided into four sections for different kinds of hay. ISText 
to the wall is a massive platform, around which a dozen 
carts can drive and unload at the same time. Under this 
platform are the stables, ranged in a circle, and able to 
accommodate a hundred cattle. The brother, with an air 
of secresy which I was slow to understand, beckoned the 
gentlemen of our party to a portion of the stable where 
he had a fine two year old bull, which, he seemed to think, 
was not a proper animal for ladies to look upon. 

The sister afterward conducted us to the dairy, where 
two still more ancient sisters were engaged in cutting up 
curd for a cheese. They showed us with considerable 
pride the press-room, cheese-room, and milk-room, which 
were cool and fragrant with the rich nutritive smell of cheese 
and whey. The dwellings of the separated sexes, which I 
was most desirous to see, were not exhibited. The sis- 
ters referred us to Lebanon, where strangers are habitually 
admitted. The only peculiarity of their speech seemed to 
be the use of the " Yea'' (which they pronounce Tee) and 
" Nay," instead of " Yes" and " No !" 

NotTsdthstanding their apparent cheerfulness and con- 
tentment, not one that I saw seemed to be comj^letely 
healthy. They had a singularly dry, starved, hungry, lone- 



TUAYELS AT HOME. 335 

ly look, which — if it be the result of their celibate creed — 
is a sufficient comment upon it. That grace and mellow 
ripeness of age which is so beautiful and so attractive in the 
patriarch of an abundant family, was wholly wanting. No 
sweet breath of house-warms their barren chambers. The 
fancied purity of their lives is like the vacuum of an ex- 
hausted receiver, whence all noxious vapor may be extract- 
ed, but the vital air with it. The purest life is that of the 
wedded man and woman — ^the best of Christians are the 
fathers and mothers. 



It is a fact that most of our railroad lines avoid the best 
scenery of the United States. With the exception of a 
portion of the 'New York and Erie, the Hudson River, 
Pennsylvania Central, and Baltimore and Ohio, I cannot 
now recall any road which affords fair pictures of the region 
it traverses. This is especially the case with the main artery 
of Massachusetts. No one, flying through Berkshire on a 
Western Railroad train, can perceive more than one-third 
of its actual beauty. Going eastward, on our way to Bos- 
ton, we had some pleasant glimpses among the narrow dells 
of the Berkshire Hills, but the valley of the Connecticut, 
in reality so lovely, presents but a tame appearance. The 
charm of Springfield — its semi-circular sweep of suburban 
villas — is invisible, and Mount Holyoke shows but a low, 
blue, triangular mass in the north. 

To one fresh from the exquisite pastoral scenery of Penn- 
sylvania, so like mid-England in its smooth fields, its hedge- 
rows, and magnificent trees, the country between Spring- 



336 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

field and Boston seems exceedingly bleak and sterile. The 
rocky, gravelly soil, the gloomy woods of fir and pine, or 
dwarfish deciduous trees, the clap-board villages, hinting 
of a new Western State rather than of one of the mothers 
of the [Republic, must disappoint, I fancy, those who visit 
New England for the first time. At least, this was the case 
with my friends. " Can this be Massachusetts — this barren 
region, where it seems impossible for a farmer, with all his 
industry, to do more than barely live ?'' " Think a mo- 
ment," I answered, " and you will perhaps remember that 
you have never heard the soil of Massachusetts praised, but 
her laws, her school system, her morals, and her men I" 
These it is that have made her what she is, while Virginia, 
favored of Heaven in regard to soil and climate, has become 
the degenerate Spain of our Republic. 

Naturally, the eastern portion of Massachusetts, with the 
exception of the region about Wacliuset, and some points 
on the sea-coast, is neither beautiful nor picturesque. It is 
not only rough, with an indifferent vegetable development, 
but monotonous in its forms. The numerous lakes — or 
ponds, as they are prosaically called — constitute a redeem- 
ing feature. It is astonishing how the gleam of water 
brightens the commonest landscape. Here, however, where 
Nature has done comparatively little, Man has done a great 
deal. As you approach Boston the roughest region is yet 
a region of homes. The granite boulders, so unsightly in 
a field of grain, become ornaments when breaking the 
smooth turf of a lawn ; the scrubby pines, trimmed and 
cared for, shoot into beautiful trees, and one elm, growing 
and expanding in the symmetry which freedom gives, is the 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 337 

glory of an entire landscape. Man may sometimes deform, 
but he oftenest improves Kature ; it is mere cant to assert 
the contrary. And I know no better illustration of the fact 
than the environs of Boston. 

As we flashed past the quaint wooden cottages of New- 
ton and Brighton, my friend asked: "Are those houses 
really meant for dwellings ? They seem to me too sportive 
and toy-like, as if somebody had been playing at village- 
making, putting down a house here and a house there, to 
see how it would look best.'' This playful character of the 
villages never struck me before, but it is one which would 
naturally present itself to an eye accustomed to the solid, 
matter-of-fact, unlovely aspect of the country-towns of Eu- 
roi^e. The rus in urhe is a thing never seen in the Old 
World, unless, rarely, in England. We are too used to 
villages, where every house has its garden and its threshold- 
trees, to appreciate their novelty and freshness in a stran- 
ger's eyes. 

The approach to Boston is almost the only picturesque 
city-view we have on the Atlantic Coast. The broad reach- 
es of water, the cheerful suburbs on either hand, the long, 
gently-rising, brick hill in front, crowned with the yellow 
dome of the State-House, when seen in the tempered even- 
ing light, under a cloudless sky, form an imposing and truly 
attractive picture. ISTew York, from the bay, suggests com- 
mercial activity only ; Philadelphia, from the Delaware, is 
the tamest of cities ; but Boston, from any side, owing to 
her elevation, has a stately charm which her prouder sisters 
do not possess. 

A Boston Sunday, in Winter, is a day of sack-cloth and 
15 



338 AT HOME AND xVBEOAD. 

ashes. A foreigner would suppose there was weekly fast- 
ing and prayer for some great national calamity. Instead 
of an expression of thankfulness for rest, of joy in the 
relaxation from toil, of happy because spontaneous devo 
tion, the city Avears a grim, sullen, funereal aspect, as if 
undergoing the Sabbath perforce, but with a strong silent 
protest. In the bright summer weather of July, however, 
the painful precision of the day was considerably relaxed, 
and the faces of the multitude exhibited a profane expres- 
sion of cheerfulness. In the afternoon, piloted by two poets, 
we drove up and down, through and around, the enchant- 
ing southern suburbs. The filling up of Back Bay — a 
municipal work, second in magnitude only to the raising of 
the city of Chicago above its original level — first claimed 
our attention. The Boston of the next half-century Avill 
cover the spacious plain thus created. Incipient streets 
already branch out from the bottom of the Common, and 
stately stone dwellings, in Louis Quatorze style, are spring- 
ing up with magical rapidity. The extension of Beacon 
street is the beginning of a Boston Fifth Avenue, of which 
the city is not a little proud. 

In her southern suburbs, however — in Roxbury, and the 
hills beyond, and princely Brookline, and Brighton, Boston 
may challenge com|)arison with almost any city in the 
world. This undulating region, dotted with crystal ponds, 
superbly wooded, and covered for miles with country-seats 
m every conceivable style of architecture, from the once- 
prevalent Grecian temple to the now-fashionable mansard- 
roof, is a portfolio crammed with delicious pictures. The 
velvet turf, golden-green in sunshine, the trim buckthorn 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 339 

hedges, the trellised roses, the commingling of pine, elm, 
maple, larch, chestnut, and fir in the groves, the unexpected 
dells and water-glimpses, the gleam of towers and mellow- 
tinted house-fronts far and near, the old avenues, ribbed 
with Gothic boughs, are among their features, and you can 
scarcely say that any thing is wanting. Many of the houses, 
it is true, are too much buried from the sun and air, to be 
healthy residences ; but they are none the less beautiful on 
that account. The N'ew Yorkers spread their country resi- 
dences over Staten Island, along the shores of the Sound, 
and half-way up the Hudson, beautifying a great extent of 
territory, while the Bostonians, by crowding theirs together, 
have produced a smaller, but nearly perfect region of land- 
scape gardening ; for, where so much is beautiful, the occa- 
sional anomalies andgrotesqueries of taste fail to offend you. 

The general impression which Boston and its "environs 
made upon my friends was that of substantial prosperity 
and comfort. They also noticed its prim, proper English 
air, so strongly contrasted with the semi-Parisian vivacity 
of New York. Boston, in fact, prides itself on its Deport- 
ment : it is nothing if not proper. All the ridicule which 
other cities are in the habit of heaping upon it does not 
seem to disturb its equanimity in the least. I do not remem- 
mer to have seen the Boston papers greatly enraged by any 
hostile assertion, except that the harbor sometimes freezes 
over : then^ they cry out in indignant wrath. 

I must say, I rather admire this stolid self-reliance and 
Xovanglican assumption — if for nothing else, at least because 
it shows a thicker cuticle than we excitable N'ew- Yorkers 
possess, whose nerves are exposed to the atmosphere, or 



340 • AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

that of the morbidly sensitive Philadelphians, who ransack 
the Union for derogatory remarks, and exalt one horn 
while depressing the other to gore all who doubt their 
greatness. The genuine Bostonian is the most complacent 
of mortals. With his clean shirt on, and his umbrella under 
his arm, he sits upon his pedestal of Quincy granite, and 
reads his mild, unexceptionable newspaper. He believes in 
Judge Story and Daniel Webster, reads the poems of Han- 
nah Gould and George Lunt, votes for Bell and Everett, 
and hopes that he will go to Paris when he dies. 

With me, however, who have been knocked about the 
world too much to have any special veneration for any par- 
ticular class of men, excessive propriety is always a suspi- 
cious circumstance. I would sooner trust the ragged Chris- 
tian who sits in the hindmost pew, than the smoothly-shaven 
deacon who leads the hymn. I have sometimes wondered 
whether all the Bostonians postpone their Parisian delights 
until after death. Is there nothing volcanic under this cold 
lava? No indulgence in improprieties, all the more attrac- 
tive, because secret ? My friend related to me this morn- 
ing an experience which he had innocently made. "What 
a curious city this is !" he exclaimed ; " last night, while I 
was walking out alone, it occurred to me that a glass of 
beer would be a good thing for my thirst. So I looked 
here, and looked there, going through many streets, but 
every house was closed : only the churches were o^^en. At 
last I stopped a man in the street, and said to him, in my 
imperfect English : ' Is it possible that in this great city I 
cannot get one small glass of beer?' 'Hush!' said the man, 
' come with me and I'll show you.' So we went througli 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 341 

many streets, until he stopped at a little dark door, and said 
* go up.' Then he went away. I went up one flight of 
stairs : it was dark. Then I went up another flight, and 
saw a lighted glass door with the word ' Serenity ' upon 
it. Inside were many men, drinking beer. I also drank a 
glass, but I was obliged to pay double price for it, and the 
beer was very bad." 

I laughed heartily at my friend's adventure, the explana- 
tion of which led me into a statement of the various phases 
of the Temperance reform. In Germany, where a Liquor 
Law would be not only an impossibility, but an incredibility^ 
such clandestine dodges are unknown, and I am afraid my 
friend's respect for the administration of the laws in this 
country was somewhat lessened. 



3. — ^The Saco Yaixey. 

There are two routes of travel from Boston to the 
White Mountains — the eastern, by way of Lake Winnipi- 
seogee and the Saco Valley, and the western, up the Con 
necticut River to Littleton, and thence up the valley of the 
Ammonoosuc. The former, which we chose, is again sub- 
divided into two branches — one, via Manchester and Con- 
cord to Wier's, on Lake Winnipiseogee, and thence by 
Centre Harbor to Conway, and the other, via Lawrence, 
Dover, and the Cocheco Railroad to Alton Bay, at the 
lower extremity of the lake. We preferred the latter of 
these branches, as afibrding us the greater quantity of 



342 AT HOME AND ABHOAD. 

lake travel : those who prefer haste to scenery take the 
former. 

I noticed one change for the better on the Boston and 
Maine road — that of the introduction of a comfortable 
smoking-car. I think! should appreciate this if I were not 
a consumer of the delectable weed : but as I know from 
experience how the dreary time we spend in railroad-cars is 
beguiled by that 

" Kind nymph to Bacchus bom 
By Morpheus' daughter, she that seems 
Gifted upon her natal morn 
By him with fire, by her with dreams," 

I think the Company has done a commendable thing. Any- 
thing that contributes to the comfort of the public (and the 
public will smoke, oh ye Reformers !) deserves to be praised, 
and I therefore praise it. There is one thing more needed 
— a Spitting, or rather, Chewing Car. I fancy that most 
ladies, delicate as their nerves may be, would rather sit in 
a smoky atmosphere than have their dresses dabbled in the 
liquid filth which the Chewer is at liberty to disgorge every- 
'where. In Boston you are fined two dollars for smoking 
in the streets (or would be if the law were enforced), but 
you may spit to your heart's content. The genuine smoker 
does not spit : he offers only the rarest and most fragrant 
incense to his god ; and why his coarser brother should be 
tolerated and he proscribed, is what I cannot understand. 

A smart shower on Monday night had laid the dust: the 
air was like fluid diamond, and the forests sparkled and 
gleamed as if newly varnished. We flew past Lawrence, 



TEAYELS AT HOME. 343 

noticed the melancholy site of the Pemberton Mills, admired 
the cerulean blue of the Merrimack at Haverhill, found the 
further scenery tame, and in the course of time reached 
Dover. 

The Cocheco Road passes through a wild, sterile, and alto- 
gether uninviting region, but it is only twenty-eight miles 
long, and in a little over an hour we embarked on the 
Bteamer Dover at the lower extremity of Lake Winnipi- 
seogee. Alton Bay is a long, narrow inlet between wooded 
hills. The dark-blue waves danced under a strong northern 
breeze, but our staunch little steamer swiftly parted them 
and brought us into the open water, whence we saw far to 
the north, the blue outposts of the White Hills. The 
shores of the Lake are rough and wild, but rendered very 
jjicturesque by the multitude of coves, inlets, and islands. 
Winnipiseogee is an almost exact reproduction of some of 
the Scandinavian Lakes — the Tindso, in Tellemark, or the 
Malar, in Sweden, for instance. Its atmosphere is quite as 
northern, notwithstanding it lies fifteen degrees further 
south. On other days it may present Avarmer tints and 
softer outlines, but with such a keen, bracing wind, under 
a July sun, my experiences three summers ago came vividly 
to my mind, and I almost fancied myself again in ISTorway. 

We did not see the whole of the Lake, owing to a slight 
misunderstanding of mine, which, after all, turned out for 
the best. This route again, I had discovered, is subdi- 
vided ; there being lival stage-lines from Wolfborough and 
Centre Harbor to Conway. Supposing Wolfborough to 
be at the north-eastern corner of the lake, instead of the 
south-eastern, as it really is, and learning that the stages 



344 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

thence reached Conway in advance of these from Centre 
Harbor, I left the boat at the former place, and therefore 
missed seeing as I had intended, the upper portion of the 
lake. But, on the other hand, I gained the pleasantest 
stage route and the best approach to the mountains, so 
that, on the whole, the balance was rather in our favor. 

After climbing the hill before reaching Ossipee, we had 
our last and loveliest view of Winnipiseogee, lying in 
many a strip of dim silver among the blue hills. A mile 
further, on the ridge of the Tuftonborough Hills, a noble 
panorama awaited us. In front— great tracts of forest, 
broken in upon here and there by roughly-cleared farms — 
lay the valley of the Saco, while in the north-west rose the 
White Mountains, showing each separate peak distinctly in 
the clear air. Chocorua, with his pyramid of rock, on the 
right, and peaked Kearsarge on the left, stood in advance, 
like sentinels at the entrance of the deep, dim valley, whose 
walls of increasing elevation seemed buttresses, resting 
against the shoulders of Mount Washington, the central 
dome-shaped monarch of the group. Light clouds were 
hovering in the sky, but above the mountains, and belts of 
cold shadow across the middle distance heightened the 
sunny warmth of the foreground. 

Thenceforward, we overlooked the stony soil and the 
shabby farms. We had entered artist-land, and even when 
the forests narrowed our prospect, we only saw the pictu- 
resque in mossy rocks and twisted trees. As we approached 
the Saco, after passing Six-Mile Pond, much of the scenery 
consisted of remembrances of New York studios. Every 
foreground was made up of sketches by Shattuck, Cole- 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 345 

man, and the younger painters: every background was 
a complete picture by Kensett. I watched the shifting 
quadruple peaks of Cbocorua with a peculiar personal 
interest. Gradually they assumed the familiar position : 
the crest of sheer rock gleamed with a faint red in the sun 
that lay so warm upon the hills — yes, there is ray Choco- 
rua! And really, at this distance, he towers not more 
grandly in the afternoon light than on those four feet of 
canvass, in my room at home, "where it is always afternoon." 

I do not think any approach to the White Mountains 
can be more beautiful than that of the Saco Yalley. You 
are carried so gently and with such sweetly prolonged sur- 
prises, into their heart, — touched first, as it were, with 
their outstretched fingers, held awhile in their arms, and 
finally taken to their bosom. Their beauty wins before 
their sublimity awes you. On such an evening, with the 
depth of color increasing as the light fades, bars of alter- 
nate gold and violet flung from summits and through 
lateral gorges across the valley, and blue glimpses of stream 
or lake interrupting the rich, uniform green, every turn 
of the road gives you a new delight, every minute of the 
fleeting time is more precious than the last. 

IS'ow, wherein is this scenery inferior to that of the 
Scotch Highlands, or the Lower Alps, or the Jura ? In 
no respect, to my eyes, but rather finer in its forms and 
combinations. To be sure, it lacks the magic of old 
associations ; but this — if it be a defect — is one which is 
soon forgotten. The principal difierence is one which 
applies to almost all American scenery. Virgin nature has 
a complete charm of its own : so has nature under subjec- 

16* 



34G AT HOME AND ABPvOAD. 

tioii, cnltivatecl, enriched, finished as a dweliing-place for 
man : but that transition state, which is neither one thing 
nor the other, gives an unsatisfactory impression in the 
midst of our highest enjoyment. Imagine the intervales 
of the Saco under thorough culture, the grassfields thick 
and smooth, the grain heavy, not a stump to be seen, the 
trees developed in their proper forms, fair pastures on the 
hillsides, shepherds' cottages high up on the mountains, 
thrifty villages, farm-houses and summer villas scattered 
over the landscape, and what is left for the eye to crave ? 
But take it now, with its frequent unsightly clearings, its 
fields dotted with ugly stumps, and the many single trees 
which, growing up spindly in the midst of others, are now 
left standing alone, robbed of their characteristic forms, 
and you will readily see that here are discordant elements 
in the landscape. It is not always the absolute superiority 
of Nature which we recognize ; we are influenced by these 
indirect impressions, and they are not to be reasoned away. 

Yet, during the last stage of our ride some perfect 
pictures were presented to us. Mote Mountain, beyond 
the Saco, lifted a huge mass of blue shadow into the sky ; 
Kearsarge was tipped with yellow light, and, in front, 
high over the valley, Mount Washington shone in splendid 
purjjle. Occasional gaps through the trees gave us limited 
\iews, where every feature was fair and harmonious. One 
farm in particular, with its white house, high on a ledge of 
Mote Mountain, where the sunset still lingered, came again 
and again to sight, thrown so far off by the brown sha- 
dows around us that it seemed a fairy picture in the air. 

At dusk we reached ISTorth Conway, and found lodging? 



TKAYELS AT HOAIE. 347 

at the Kearsarge House — a tall siiaky building, crammed 
with visitors. We were luciiy, iu fact, in finding quarters 
at all. Hundreds are turned away during the season. 
But as the landlord says, when people comj^lain of his 
neglecting to enlarge his bomids: "I have a right to 
complain that you don't patronize me for eight months of 
the year." Splendor, so temporary in its uses, will not 
pay. We found everything clean and convenient, and 
were well satisfied. 



When I awoke this morning the rain was beating an 
accompaniment to my dreams upon the balcony roof, 
the wind was roaring in the woods, and low masses of 
cloud were driving over the gateway of The iSTotch. It 
Avas a genuine mountain storm which had come upon us, 
and threatened to confine us within doors during the day 
— a prospect Avhereat I heartily rejoiced. If there is any- 
thing which fills me with a comfortable feeling of happi- 
ness — which makes me at peace with all mankind, and bids 
me see only the bright side of life, it is a rain-storm among 
the mountains. It has become a conventionalism to speak 
of the dreariness of a rainy day in the country : for my 
part, I know nothing more beautiful, except sunshine, and 
that is generally less cheerful. While a rain is gathering — 
while the atmosphere is heavy, portentous, congested (to 
borrow a medical word, which expresses the feeling better 
than any other), I am plunged into the lowest depth of 
despair, but I begin to mount, with the first drop ; and 
when the trees bend, and turn the under side of their 



348 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

leaves to the gale, and the hills are blotted out with rain, 
and the roof becomes a resonant sounding-board, whereon 
"Xes Gouttes d^JEau'"' is played with a delicate grace 
beyond the reach of Liszt or Chopin — then, I revel in an 
Olympian buoyancy of spirits, and the lost sun of the outer 
rises on my inner world. 

So I sat down to write, feeling sure that a whole day of 
quiet comfort was before me ; but scarcely had I written 
six pages before the clouds broke, the rain ceased, and the 
sun began to give glimpses of his face. The mountains 
came out bright and green, the bears rose, shook off their 
wet, and stood on their hind legs ; the band played adieux 
to departing stages, and all the distractions of good wea- 
ther thrust themselves between brain and paper. It was 
no use to try: I must be up and away. The air called, 
the sun called ; the trees, waterfalls, and distant blue 
peaks sent their voices up to ray window. Conscience 
(literary, only) was silenced; duty was a bore: "I did 
not come to write," I said to myself, and out we went 
into the woods. 

" As sunbeams stream through hberal space, 
And nothing jostle or displace, 
So waved the pine-tree through my thought, 
And fanned the dreams it never brought." 

But now, while the stars are sparkling over the hills, and 
the dancers are dancing in tune in the great saloon, to the 
sound of the horn and bassoon, and the crowd of guests 
are " going on " precisely as if there were no mountains 
about them, and no Mount Washington to be ascended on 



TEAVELS AT HOME. 349 

the morrow, let me pick up the thread dropped this morn- 
ing, and resume our travels. 

The morning, at jN"orth Conway, was so w^onderfully 
clear, that I immediately predicted a storm. Mount Wash- 
ington seemed near at hand ; even the bridle path on the 
southern ^ide was visible. The eclipse came off, according 
to contract, but so brilliant was the day that I should not 
have noticed it but for the peculiar shadows cast by the 
trees. We resisted the temptation to climb Kearsarge, 
having too much before us, to exhaust each locality. So 
much the better : we can come back again, and still have 
something in store. The stage for Crawford's went off, 
packed with tourists, and, to our cost, we engaged a special 
team to take us thither in the afternoon. The price 
demanded, and of course paid (for there was no resource), 
was eighteen dollars for an open two-horse wagon, to con- 
vey us twenty-five miles. This is rather ahead of Illinois, 
and about equal to California. But there was some sense 
in the landlord's remark : " I have to keep fifty horses all 
winter at a heavy expense, in order to supply travellers for 
three or four months in the summer, and they must pay for 
it." Certainly, a lumbering Concord coach, with nine 
inside, is no place whence to behold White Mountain 
scenery, and we were speedily reconciled to the double 
fare. 

The road follows the valley of the Saco, rising from 
North Conway, which is six hundred feet to the source of 
the river, at Crawford's, tw^o thousand feet above the sea- 
level. At first, the valley is broad, and the farms frequent. 
After passing Bartlett's Corner, where Ellis River comes 



350 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

down from the right, and a stage road branches off tc 
Pinkham Notch and the Glen House, we drove for eight 
or ten miles in a western direction, between still loftier 
mountains. Here the soil appeared kinder, and the rough 
shanties, ^vhence issued, at our approach, little girls with 
birchen boxes of rasj^berries, ceased. " If the road were 
macadamized," said my friend, " and a few cataracts poured 
down the ledge, it would be very much like Guldbrands- 
dal, in Norway." New-Hampshire, in fact, is Norway, 
with a somewhat richer vegetation. 

At the Upper Bartlett House we were gratified with the 
sight of some trout, in a spring. We had tried, in vain, 
to procure trout at the hotels. At breakfast there were 
some on the table, but fried in such a manner that their 
peculiar flavor was unrecognizable. What more easy than 
artificial trout-breeding in these clear mountain streams ? 
And what more remunerative than trout (charged extra in 
the bill) to the keepers of these mountain hotels ? 

Turning North again, we took a last view of Kearsarge, 
down the glorious valley, and jDushed forward into wilder 
regions. The highest peaks on either hand reached a 
height of five thousand feet, the bed of the valley became 
contracted, and the Old Crawford House, now closed, 
seemed to be the last outpost of civilization in this direc- 
tion. We were never weary of noting the bold, beautiful 
sweep of the mountain sides, clothed to their very summits 
with as thick and green a foliage as the tropical hills of 
Mexico. I had anticipated landscapes of a wilder and 
rougher cast. Here, however, for several miles, we drove 
through forests which arched above the road, and shut out 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 351 

"ill view — not only woods of fir, oak, and beech, but the 
beautiful birch, with its slender milk-white stem, while the 
ground is covered with giant ferns, as large and as beau- 
tiful as the pandanus and the sago-palm of the Pacific 
isles. The size and beauty of the birches caused ns for a 
time to forget the mountains altogether. Straight, and 
Avhite as ivory, they shone through the gloom of the ever- 
greens, and formed a fairy colonnade far before ns. 

After twice crossing the infant Saco, the road turned a 
little to the left, and we found ourselves between Mount 
Webster and the Willey Mountain, elevations of equal 
height, whose bases touch in the bed of the stream, and 
whose sides rise at an average angle of 45°. The trees 
which cling to them are scant and dwarfish, and torn away 
in long strips by slides which start from their very brows. 
They appear to be almost inaccessible, but may be climbed 
by a man of strong nerve and solid muscle. The crest of 
Mount Webster, a long wall of perpendicular rock, bright- 
ened by the sinking sun, towered over us, midway to the 
zenith. The driver, of course, pointed out the traces of 
the fatal slide of 1826, on Willey Mountain, and presently 
the house came in sight. It it now but an appendage to a 
larger building which has been inhabited (a sort of hotel, I 
believe) for the past year or two. The occupants, pro- 
bably, reckon that two slides will hardly be likely to occur 
in the same place. 

Here commences The Notch, which is properly no notch, 
but a very deep, wild valley, or trough, formed by the 
bases of the two mountains before mentioned. At its 
head, overhanging it in an immense precipice of gray rock. 



S52 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

and seeming to block all egress, is Mount Willard, a peak * 
more remarkable from its abruptness and its isolation, than 
its actual height. For two miles we drove forward through 
the -woods, climbing the ascending gorge. The topmost 
crags of Mount Webster were no longer burnished with 
sunset ; the air around us grew dark and cool, and the 
Saco became a rill which I could almost collect in a bucket. 
A spruce rider, prancing through the woods on a hand- 
some black horse, assured us that Crawford's was close at 
hand, and obligingly galloped ahead to engage rooms for 
us. A few very steep pulls brought us to a cleft between 
immense masses of dark rock, leaving a space of little more 
than twenty feet for the road and stream. Here, turning 
back, we saw The Notch, looming huge and awful through 
the blue vapors of twilight — a grand, a truly Alpine land- 
scape. 

A hundred yards further, and we emerged from the 
Gate of the N^otch, as it is called, upon a little plateau, two . 
thousand feet above the sea. A black pond beside us, was 
the fountain of the SaCo. Lights glimmered ahead, the 
sound of music saluted us, and the long front of the Craw- 
ford House rose like a palace in the wilderness. From the 
balcony pealed the band — with a good-will, if not with 
great artistic talent ; a hundred well-dressed gentlemen and 
ladies promenaded along the veranda; gas-lights flared 
through the broad entrance — in short, all the evidences 
of a first-class hotel, " with the latest improvements," 
saluted our delighted eyes. Our bedrooms were actually 
lighted with gas — and there were bell-pulls — and "some- 
body came when you pulled — and what you ordered was 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 353 

brought to you ! Nature is good, I thought, but Kature 
in combiDation with the latest improvements is best of all. 
In the words of a New England poet, whose name I am 
sorry not to know : 

" G-ive to Natur' Natur's doo, 
Bat give to Art, more too." 

In the evening the guests gathered in the grand saloon, 
about half the size of the Great Eastern's deck, and there 
were performances on the piano, heard in becoming silence, 
and the inevitable hop. In this I did not join, preferring 
not to do a thing at all rather than to do it badly, but the 
rhythm of the dancers' feet reached me in bed, through all the 
timbers of the house. With the exception of the hop, which 
occasioned a temporary unbending ceremony, the company 
appeared to me rather grave and formal. Those conven- 
tionalities from which we so gladly escape, penetrate even 
here. Immense trunks are unshipped from the stages, costly 
dresses appear in the evening, the ladies criticise each other 
— in short, the utmost resistance is offered to the levelling 
influence of the mountain air. It is but a shifting of location 
— not of nature. I was impressed with a pleasant sense of 
freedom in the evening when the stage from Conway drove 
up, with a company of ladies packed on the very top, and sing- 
ing in chorus, with a hearty scorn of all artificial proprieties. 
To me, the hesitation to break through rule occasionally, 
implies a doubt of one's own breeding. Those whose 
behavior is refined, from the natural suggestions of a refined 
nature, are never troubled by such misgivings, and show 
their true gentleness most when most free and unrestrained. 



354 AT HOME AND ABrRQAD. 

One may ride to the top of Mount Willard in an omni. 
bus, but it is not a severe walk, even for ladies. In spite 
of the dead, sultry heat of the air, we found refreshment in 
that steep, unvarying line of shade, with its mossy banks, 
starred with a delicate oxalis^ the pigmy cornus^ ground- 
pine, club moss, and harebells. N'othing was to be seen, 
so thick was the forest, until we reached the top of the 
mountain, about 3,500 feet above the sea. Here, after two 
or three hundred yards of comparative level, the wood 
suddenly opened, and we found ourselves standing on the 
very pinnacle of the great cliff which we saw last night, 
blocking up The Notch. 

The effect was magical. The sky had in the meantime 
partially cleared, and patches of sunny gold lay upon the 
dark mountains. Under our feet yawned the tremendous 
gulf of The Notch, roofed with belts of cloud, which 
floated across from summit to summit nearly at our level ; 
so that we stood, as in the organ loft of some grand cathe- 
dral, looking down into its dim nave. At the further end, 
over the fading lines of some nameless mountains, stood 
Chocorua, purple with distance, terminating the majestic 
vista. It was a picture which the eye could take in at one 
glance : no landscape could be more simple or more sub- 
lime. The noise of a cataract to our right, high up on 
Mount Willey, filled the air with a far. sweet, fluctuating 
murmur, but all round us the woods were still, the hare- 
bells bloomed, and the sunshine lay warm upon the 
granite. 

I had never heard this view particularly celebrated, and 
was therefore the more impressed by its wonderful beauty 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 355 

As a simple picture of a mountain-pass, seen from above, 
it cannot be surpassed in Switzerland. Something like it I 
have seen in the Taurus, otherwise I can recall no view with 
which to compare it. A portion of the effect, of course, de- 
pends on the illumination, but no traveller who sees it on 
a day of mingled cloud and sunshine will be disappointed. 



4. — ^The Ascent of Mount Washington. 

" You breakfast at seven, start at eight, and ride up iu 
four hours," said Mr. Gibb. Everything depended on the 
weather. There had been two glorious days for the ascent, 
the beginning of the week, and a third was almost too much 
to expect. At seven, the mountains in front were covered 
with heavy layers of cloud, and countenances fell. I went 
to the back of the house, and, seeing a low, arched gap of 
blue sky in the west, denoting a wind from that quarter, 
confidently predicted a fine day. Ladies prepared for the 
ascent by taking off hoops, putting on woollen jackets and 
old straw hats (hired of the porter), and gentlemen by 
adopting a rough, serviceable rig, leasing, if they did not 
already possess one. 

Eight o'clock came, but the stages had to leave first, each 
accompanied by a pathetic farewell from the band in the 
balcony. For half an hour I had been striding about in a 
woollen wamms^ uncomfortably warm, while the other gen- 
tlemen luxuriated in horsemen's boots : the ladies kept their 
collapsed skirts out of sight until the last moment. Finally, 



356 AT HOME A^'D ABIIOAD. 

Mr. Gibb, with a list in his hand, took his place, like a mas- 
ter of the ring, in the midst of a whirlpool of rough-looking 
horses, and the travellers mounted, as their names were 
called, the beasts which he assigned to them. A little con- 
fusion ensued, slight shrieks were heard, saddles were ad- 
justed, girths looked after, stirrup-leathers regulated, and 
then, falling into a promiscuous line, we defiled into the 
bridle-path, while the band played " Away to the mountain 
brow." 

We might have been a picturesque, but we were not a 
beautiful company. The ladies resembled gipsies on the 
march, wearing the clothes they had picked up on the way : 
the gentlemen might have been political refugees, just 
arrived from Europe, and not yet received by the Com- 
mon Council of New York. The horses were intended by 
nature for use rather than ornament, and our two guides, in 
fact, were the only figures that were handsome, as well as 
vastly useful. Accustomed to walk up and down Mount 
Washington (nine miles from Crawford's to the summit) three 
or four times a week, they had the true Zouave development 
of muscle. Tall, strong, tireless, cheerful, kind-hearted fel- 
lows, I looked on them with pride, and wished that more 
Americans were like them in the possession of such manly 
qualities. One of the ladies of my party had never before 
mounted a horse, and could never have gotten through her 
first lesson in so rough a school without their careful tutor- 
ship. 

Striking into the woods, we began immediately to ascend, 
gently at first, until we had scaled the lower shelf of Mount 
Clinton, when the ascent became more steep and toilsome. 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 357 

The road has been judiciously laid out, and made practica- 
ble with considerable labor. The marshy places are cordu- 
royed with small logs, and the gullies bridged in the same 
manner, so that you pass easily and securely. Indeed, 
nearly half the distance to the summit of Mount Clinton — • 
three miles — has been paved in this manner. The rains 
have gradually worn the path deeper, and you frequently 
ride between high, mossy banks, bright with flowers. The 
oak, birch, maple, and other deciduous trees become less 
frequent as you ascend, until the forest consists entirely of 
fir. The lower boughs have rotted and dropped off, and the 
upper ones form a dark roof above your head, while all the 
ground is covered with a thick growth of immense ferns. 
A young tropical wood seems to be springing up under the 
shadow of an Arctic forest. Perhaps this singular contrast 
of forms (for the fern is Nature's first attempt at making a 
palm-tree) explains the charm of this forest, wherein there 
is no beauty in the forms of the trees. 

We rode on steadily — delayed sometimes by the guide's 
being obliged to mend his corduroys — for three miles, when 
the wood, which had been gradually becoming more ragged 
and stunted, came rather suddenly to an end, and we found 
ourselves on the summit of Mount Clinton, 4,200 feet above 
the sea. Looking to the northward, we saw before us the 
bald, rounded top of Mount Pleasant, about five hundred 
feet higher, while beyond, a gray cloud-rack, scudding 
rapidly from w^est to east, completely hid from view the 
dome of Mount Washington. 

To make our position clear, I must give a little geogra- 
phy. Mount Washington is the culmination of a connected 



358 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

series of peaks, whicli have a general direction of IST. W; 
and S. E. Mount Webster, which forms one side of The 
Notch, is the commencement of this series, as you ascend 
the Saco Yalley. Then follow Mounts Jackson, Clinton 
(which wehave just surmounted). Pleasant, Franklin, Mon- 
roe, and finally Washington, summit rising above summit 
in Titanic steps, from 4,000 until the chieftain attains the 
crowning height of 6,285 feet. Beyond Mount Washing- 
ton are the peaks of Clay, Adams, Jefferson, and Madison, 
all of which exceed 5,000 feet in height. The road from 
the Crawford House, therefore, scales five mountains in 
succession : it is the longest, but by far the most compen- 
sating road to the top of Mount Washington. That from 
the Glen House, at the eastern base of the mountain, touches 
no other peak, which is also the case with the road from 
Fabyan's, up the valley of the Ammonoosuc. Both the 
latter, however, are practicable for carriages about half the 
way. 

The still heat we had felt in the woodland path suddenly 
ceased, and a strong wind, chilled by the elevation of be- 
tween four and five thousand feet, blew upon us. The 
ladies were glad to use the porters' rough pea-jackets, and 
those who were unaccustomed to saddles looked at the 
blue mountain-gulfs which yawned to the right and left, 
with an awful feeling of apprehension. In the rocky dip 
which separated us from Mount Pleasant, trees no longer 
grew: the path, in many places, was a steep rocky ladder, 
toilsome both to man and beast. Our sturdy guides leaped 
back and forth, supporting and encouraging the timorous 
ladies ; nervous gentlemen dismounted and led their horses, 



TRAYELS AT HOME. 359 

but the latter were as nimble and sure-footed as cats, and 
I rode my " Sleepy David" (so the beast was properly 
called) down and up without fear or peril. On either side 
opened a mountain landscape — great troughs of blue forest 
at first, then dimmer ranges, lighter patches of cleared land 
beyond, sparkles of houses and villages, and far waves of 
purple mist, merging in the sky. 

Our path did not scale Mount Pleasant, but crept around 
its eastern side, where a few old trees — ^bushes in appear- 
ance — grew, being sheltered somewhat from the nor' west- 
ern T\dnds. Here my lady-friend, appalled by the road, and 
the perils of the side-saddle, was about to give up the jour- 
ney, but having convinced her of the greater security of the 
masculine seat, we changed saddles, and thenceforth all 
went well enough. I would advise all ladies who are at all 
nervous, to take a man's saddle, and ride as Catharine of 
Russia did. It may not be so graceful, but then, I hope 
you don't go up Mount Washington to display your own 
points of attraction. 

Mount Franklin came next, and we found him rougher, 
steeper, and more laborious than his Pleasant predecessor. 
The path goes directly up his side to the very summit : 
path, did I say ? — rather a ruined staircase, with steps vary- 
ing from one to three feet in height, agreeably diversified by 
smooth planes of slanting rock. It seemed impossible that 
the horses should climb these latter without slipping, yet 
they all did so, to an animal. At the top, we had reached 
a height of 4,900 feet, without encountering a cloud, while, 
to our joy, the hood of Mount Washington was visibly 
thinner, and shoved higher up on his brows. 



360 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

From Franklin to Monroe the ridge is but a sharp comb, 
barely wide enough for the bridle-path, and falling sheer 
down to the wildernesses of forest which collect the waters 
of the Saco and the Ammonoosuc. This comb, in my opi- 
nion, commands a finer view than that from Mount Wash- 
ington. Looking either to the right or left, the picture is 
partly framed by the vast concave sweep of the mountain 
sides ; below you, the solitude of the primeval forest ; 
beyond, other mountains, broader valleys, the gray gleam 
of lakes, and the distant country, flattened into faint blue 
waves by the elevation from which you behold it. All the 
noted summits of the White Mountain region are here visi- 
ble, and Kearsarge, Chocorua, and the Franconia Group 
display themselves with fine effect. Your satisfaction is not 
diminished by the presence of the rocky, cloudy mass, which 
still towers high over you : you only fear that its summit 
will not give you grander panoramas than those unrolling 
below you — which is the case. 

" What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang), 
In height and cold, the splendor of the hills?" 

A great deal, certainly. But I imagine such pleasure 
sj^vings not merely from the sense of beauty, because al'i 
details, wherein, mostly, Beauty lies, are swallowed up in 
the immensity of the airy picture: there is also a lurking, 
flattering sense of power, which we feel, although it may 
not consciously float on the surface of our emotions. W<j 
are elevated above the earth : other men and their concerns 
are below us : their stateliest possessions are insignificant 
patches, which we look down upon without respect or envy. 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 361 

Our own petty struggles and ambitions fade away also in 
the far perspective. We stand on the pinnacle of the earth, 
whereof we are lords, and above us there is nothing but 
God. 

For this reason, a height is not a proper place for a home. 
Great elevations and far prospects excite the intellect rather 
than move the heart. No man of loving nature would build 
his house upon a mountain-peak. " Love is of the valley," 
and his chosen home is shut in and sheltered by hills and 
woods, nestled in a warm hollow of the earth, accessible, 
familiar, and yet secluded. One w'ould rather see his 
neighbor's trees and fields near him, than look from his 
window upon a hundred mUes of blue earth. " I have 
climbed to this summit w^ith much toil," says Herwegh, in 
one of his poems, " and now the dust of those streets where 
I lived is dearer to me than this pure, cold air. I can 
almost grasp Heaven with my hands, and my heart desires 
to be down on the earth again." A mountain-top may be 
a fine place for lovers, in the spring-time of their betrothal, 
but when their day of exaltation is over, and the common 
loves and common cares of the world approach, they will 
come down and settle contentedly at the base. 

Mount Monroe is a sharp, rocky mass, rising abruptly 
from the spinal ridge. Its summit has an elevation of five 
thousand three hundred feet. This, however, we do not 
scale, but climb around it by a dangerous-looking path, and 
find ourselves on the ridge again, which here broadens out 
and slopes upward to Mount Washington. On the left, in 
a hollow, about a hundred feet below us, is the Lake of the 
Clouds, a little pool of blue-black water, out of which 

16 



362 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

trickles the Ammonoosuc, highest-born of New-England 
rivers, but (like the scions of certain families) not much of 
a stream, after all. The Saco, of three or four thousand- 
feet lower origm, achieves a much more conspicuous 
destiny. 

By this time, every vestige of cloud had disappeared, and 
the chieftain summit rose before us bare, bleak, and cold, a 
steep, slightly conical mass of greenish-gray rocks, destitute 
of a single shrub. Here and there grcAV a tuft of brown, 
hardy grass, or a bunch of dwarf, delicate white flowers, 
with a sweet odor of May about them. The strong wind 
blew cold and keen from Canada, and there was no longer 
any shelter — no higher peak in that direction, nearer than 
the Rocky Mountains. Tlie path, or rather stairway, was 
so rough and laborious, that I dismounted for awhile, to the 
great joy of my horse, and climbed until the thin air failed 
to supply my lungs. It was a steady upward pull of half 
an hour, before we found the sharp crest flatten under us, 
and reached the fold of piled stones where the horses are 
left. The rest of the company (twenty-eight in all) had 
already arrived, and some of the gentlemen were engaged 
in mixing the waters of an icy spring among the rocks with 
the contents of pocket-flasks. In such a place, and under 
such circumstances, all — even the ladies — partook of the 
mixture without hesitation. " The Maine Law, I suppose, 
is inoperative up here," I said to the guide. "Oh," he 
replied, " no law comes this high : we are out of the State 
of ISTew-Hampshire." If a man should commit a crime in a 
balloon, where should he be tried ? 

A few steps further brought us to the summit, which is a 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 363 

platform of loose rocks, containing, perhaps, half an acre. 
Against the loftiest pile, in the centre, is built a long, low 
hat, styled the "Tip-Top House." Having a register, a 
bar, kitchen, and dining-room, it may be considered a hotel. 
A few steps further is the "Summit House" (a little below 
the summit), where travellers can pass the night in com- 
fortable bunks, and (perhaps) see the sun rise. There is 
one room for ladies and one for gentlemen, and an ancient 
chambermaid, who sleeps in the doorway between. A 
magnificent hotel is projected, with a carriage-road to the 
very summit. The latter, I was informed, will be com- 
pleted next year, but I have my doubts about it. The 
enterprise, to be sure, is not half so great as that of the 
Simplon Road, but it could scarcely be remunerative, while 
there are such excellent hotels as Crawford's and the Glen 
House, in more agreeable locations. 

One thing, however, is greatly needed — a tower about 
fifty feet in height, "which will enable the traveller to over- 
look the edges of the rocky platform and take in the whole 
grand panorama from one point. Any of us would have 
gladly paid a handsome fee for such a lift. At present, you 
must climb over heaps of stone, from point to point, to 
catch the various views, each of which is superb of its kind, 
but the effect would be infinitely sublimed if they could all 
be united in one picture. To the south-east you have the 
valley of the Saco, with its sentinels of Chocorua and Kear- 
sarge; to the south. Lake Winnipiseogee, lying in its cradle 
of purple hills ; south-westward, the tossing sea of wild, 
wooded, nameless peaks, stretching away to Franconia, 
whose summits shut out further horizon; westward, the 



364 AT nOilE AND ABROAD. 

valley of the Connecticut, the Green Mountains, with Mans- 
field and Camel's Hump, far and dim; Canadian wilder- 
nesses on the north, and the scattered lakes of Maine — • 
glimmering among pine-forests which seem the shadows of 
clouds — to the east. Earth and sky melt into each other, 
a hundred miles away, and the ocean, which is undoubtedly 
within the sphere of vision, is not to be distinguished from 
the air. 

The atmosphere, according to the guides, was as clear as 
it ever is, yet so great were the distances, so vast the spaces 
overlooked, that all the circle of the landscape, except the 
nearer gorges of the mountains, appeared dim and hazy. 
The sense of elevation is thereby increased: you stand, 
verily, " ringed with the azure world." I have stood on 
higher summits without feeling myself lifted so far above 
the earth. This — although there are many grand features 
in the different landscapes — is the predominant characteristic. 

On the southern side of the peak, under a .pile of stones, 
which shelters you from the wind, a mountain panorama is 
unfolded, which most of our party barely honored with a 
glance — some, in fact, did not see it at all — but which, to 
me, was grandly and gloriously beautiful. Here you see 
the main body of the White Mountains, ridge behind ridge, 
summit over summit, in lines commingling like the waves 
of the sea, harmonious yet infinitely varied — an exquisite 
study of mountain-forms, tinted with such delicate grada- 
tions of color as would have plunged an artist into despair. 
I counted no less than tw^elve planes of distance, the fur- 
thest no less distinct than the nearest, and gem-like in theii 
fine clearness of outline. 



TRAVELS AT HOME. SCK 

The sound of a bell called us to dinner, and it was no 
less welcome than miraculous a fact, that beefsteaks and 
potatoes, pies and puddings grew , on the barren granite. 
Our dining-room had walls of stone, four feet thick, plas- 
tered and ceiled with muslin, and the wind whistled in a 
hundred crannies ; yet the meal was epicurean, and the 
shelter inspired a feelmg of comfort beyond that gorgeous 
saloon at Crawford's. There was a party of thirty up from 
the Glen House, making fifty-eight visitors in all. The 
ladies, in their collapsed gowns and pea-jackets, huddled 
on the warm side of the house in melancholy groups, whih 
the gentlemen unstrapped their telescopes and opera-glasses 
and climbed upon the roof. Two o'clock was the hour fixed 
for our return, which allowed us but an hour and a half 
upon the summit. 

The descent was more toilsome than the ascent. We 
walked, in fact, to the Lake of the Clouds, where, by 
spreading ourselves among the rocks, we caught the cun- 
ning, unwilling horses. The wind still blew^ furiously, 
although the sun blistered our faces : we began to be sore 
and shaken, from the rough ride, and the cheerful chatter 
of our company subsided into a grim, silent endurance. So, 
nearly four hours passed by, until, in the ferny forests of 
Mount Clinton, we heard the strains of the distant band — 
not now discordant, oh no ! a seraphic harmony, rather — 
and, by-and-by, a bruised, jaded company straggled out of 
the woods, tumbled out of the saddle, and betook them- 
selves to sofas and rocking-chairs. The ladies, without 
exception, behaved well — in courage and endurance they 
quite equalled the gentlemen. 



366 AT HOME AND ABROj^D. 

And now, if any gentleman ask me : " Shall I ascend 
Mount Washington?" I answer "Yes" — and if a lady, 
" yes" again ': and if they reproach me afterwards for the 
advice, I know how to classify them. 



5. — Montreal a]sd Quebec. 

At Craw^ford's we were advised to take a road which leads 
northward over Cherry Mountain, and so around to Gor- 
ham, on the Grand Trunk. We should have followed this 
advice, but for two circumstances — first, there was no direct 
conveyance thither, and secondly, had there been one, as the 
day was Saturday, we should have been obliged to wait 
thirty-six hours at Island Pond. On the other hand, by 
leaving Crawford's at 4 a. m., one can reach Montreal at 
11 P.M. — a round-about journey of 270 miles, but very de- 
lightful as regards stienery. 

My friends were greatly impressed by the difference be- 
tween Vermont and New Hampshire scenery. Our after- 
noon ride up White River Valley, and onward to the shores 
of Lake Champlain, bore no resemblance to those of the 
previous days. We missed the almost Alpine grandeur of 
the White Mountains, the vast pine woods, anA the broad 
lonely lakes ; but the mountains on either hand assumed 
every variety of form. Their chains were broken by deep, 
lateral glens, the meadows were smooth and green, the foli- 
age richer, the crops better, and even the farm-houses more 
inviting in their aspect of thrift and j)rosperity. We had 



THAVELS AT HOME. 367 

a constant succession of such landscapes as you see in the 
Korthern Swiss cantons. Glorious showers of Summer rain 
dropped veil after veil of dim gray between us and the 
pictures of the ear-window; then the sun burst from behind 
a cloud, filling the air with palpable gold ; then a deep in- 
digo shadow fell on the valley and the gray film of the 
shower dropped again. To have properly enjoyed and 
appreciated this scenejy, we should have spent three days 
between the Junction and Essex, not in a railway car, but 
in an open wagon, propelled by horse power. 

We had sunset at St. Alban's, and by the time we reached 
Rouse's Point, it was confirmed night. Here you must 
change your tickets, and have your baggage examined — 
which consists in your telling the ofiicial that you are tra- 
vellers and carry only your necessary clothing, whereupon 
he makes a chalk mark on your trunks, and don't ask for 
your key. There is nothing, in fact, to indicate that you 
are entering a foreign country (I have been asked the same 
question about my baggage on the Camden and Amboy, 
and Philadelphia and Baltimore Railroads). But I forget : 
there is one circumstance, w^hich shows, at least, a change 
in the character of your fellow travellers. The sombre 
silence of the American car no longer lulls you into slum- 
ber ; you see animated gesticulations; from end to end the 
car rings with the shrill, snapping voices of the Canadian 
French. I have never crossed the frontier from Rouse's 
Point without being startled by this change. We w^ere 
heartily weary, but sleep was impossible. Our progress 
was slow, and it was a welcome sight when, towards mid- 
night, we saw the lights of Montreal reflected in the dark 
waters of the St. Lawrence. 



oOS AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

The Sunday repose was doubly pleasant in the fresh Ca- 
nadian air. Next morning we took the Grand Trunk road 
to Quebec, passing through the deafening Victoria Bridge. 
Of the road, there is little to say. After leaving St. Hya- 
cinthe, the country is mainly a level stretch of wild wood- 
land, until you reach the Chaudi^re. We arrived at Quebec 
in season to view the sunset from Durham Terrace, which 
was for us the splendid drop-curtain of the day. After 
that, we were satisfied to return to the Russell House, and 
sleep upon the impressions of the scene. 

The sky threatened rain, but we set out boldly for the 
Falls of Montmorency. Descending through an ancient and 
fish-like quarter of the city, we crossed the St. Charles 
River, and entered the long suburban street which extends 
to the Falls. This highway, crowning the undulating rise 
of the northern shore, commands a broad and superb view 
of the queenly city, the St. Lawrence, the Isle d'Orleans, 
and the opposite bank. It is therefore a favorite location 
for country residences, though the greater part of the soil 
seems to have been pre-occupied by the French habitans. 
Quaint old houses, old gardens (which are always beauti- 
ful), small fields of grain and potatoes, and village-clusters 
of neat cottages succeeded one another rapidly on both 
sides — all Avith the same mellow aspect of age and use. I 
saw scarcely half a dozen new houses in all the eight miles. 
The old dwellings, with their heavy stone walls, tin roofs, 
tall chimneys, and the snug way in which they crouched 
for shelter among groves of firs, were strongly suggestive 
of comfort and domesticity. But I was even more charmed 
with the French cottages and their cheerful occupants. For 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 369 

the most part simple, one-story structures, a hundred years 
old or more, they were scrupulously neat and orderly, and 
the women and girls whom we saw through the open doors 
and windows, at their knitting and sewing, or engaged in 
lively gossijD, were the fitting pictures for such frames. Many 
of the cottages had their little gardens, with beds of cab 
bages and onions, and some bunches of gaudy marigolds, 
snapdragons, bergamot and lavender. All the northern 
bank, sloping below us, carefully cultivated and thickly in- 
habited, basked in an atmosphere of pastoral peace and 
simplicity, while in the background towered the city and 
citadel, a mountain of glittering roofs. 

We passed the Insane Asylum, a handsome building of 
gray granite, in front of which a harmless patient, in fan- 
tastic attire, was walking with a banner in his hand. A 
mile or two beyond, on the other side of the road, stood an 
ancient stone building, with steep roofs and 1:all chimneys, 
which, according to the coachman, was once the residence 
of the Marquis de Montcalm. Little boys, with bunches 
of wild flowers, lay in wait for us as we advanced, and all 
the French children, standing in the cottage-doors, saluted 
us by a quaint, old-fashioned wave of the right hand. I 
wish our own race partook a little more of the ingrained 
cheerfulness and courtesy of the French. These hahitans 
are not only kind, faithful, and as virtuous as the average 
of men — and a little cheerful cordiality wins their hearts at 
once — but they also ofi*er an examj^le of religious tolerance 
worthy of imitation. They are very devoted to their own 
faith, but regard their Protestant neighbors without the 
least bitterness of prejudice. 

16^ 



370 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

The gray clouds which had been gatherhig during our 
drive finally broke out into rain, just as we reached the 
Falls. We drew up at a house — a compound of tavern and 
Indian curiosity-shop, in a grove of evergreens, and were 
met with the hospitable announcement " Twenty-five cents 
apiece !" A party of Southern gentlemen who preceded 
us grumbled loudly at this tax and openly expressed their 
disgust with Canada ; but where platforms must be built, 
and staircases erected for the traveller's accommodation, it 
is nothing more than fair that he should pay for it. The 
native American mipd, however, which can complacently 
contemplate the spending of fifty dollars on a spree, rebels 
against the payment of fifty cents in the shape of a just tax. 
"We might have fine macadamized highways in all the older 
portions of the United States, if our people would calculate 
the i^resent wear and tear of teams, and be willing to pay 
the same amount in the shape of tolls. But no — none of 
your tolls ! Give us our bad roads and our glorious inde- 
pendence ! 

There was no sign of a cessation of the rain, and we 
therefore descended through the grove under umbrellas, 
to the river, which, above the fall, flows in a rough bed, 
some forty or fifty feet deep. The stone piers of the 
former suspension bridge stand on either side, as melan- 
choly monuments of its fall. The chains gave way a few 
years ago, as a farmer with his horse and cart was passing 
over the bridge, and all plunged down the abyss together. 
A safe platform leads along the rocks lo a pavilion on a 
}. oint ai the side of the fall, and on a level with it. Here 
the gulf, nearly three hundred feet deep, with its walls of 



TKAYELS AT HOME. 371 

chocolate-colored earlli, and its patches of emerald herbage, 
wet with eternal spray, opens to the St. Lawrence. 

Montmorenci is one of the loveliest waterfalls. In its 
general character it bears some resemblance to the Pisse- 
vache, in Switzerland, which, however, is much smaller. 
The water is snow-white, tinted, in the heaviest portions 
of the fall, with a soft yellow, like that of raw silk. In fact, 
broken asL it is by the irregular edge of the rock, it reminds 
one of masses of silken, flossy skeins, continually overlap- 
ping one another as they fall. At the bottom, dashed 
upon a pile of rocks, it shoots far out in star-like radii of 
spray, which share the regular throb or pulsation of the 
falling masses. The edges of the fall flutter out into lace- 
like points and fringes, which dissolve into gauze as they 
descend. The peculiar charm of a cataract depends on 
the character of these exquisite, transient forms. 

The view of the fall from below must be still finer, in 
some respects; but it can only be obtained by taking a 
circuitous path, too long to be travelled in a d.i'iving rain. 
We omitted visiting the Natural Steps for the same reason, 
and set off, drijDping, for Quebec. All afternoon the win- 
dows of heaven were opened, and muddy cataracts poured 
down the steep streets. At Kussell's, the roof of the dining 
saloon leaked in such a manner that little streams poured 
upon the heads of the guests, and a portion of the floor 
was swamped. After the long drouth, this rain was indeed 
a blessing. 

Ever since, as a boy, I read Prof. Silliman's " Tour tc 
Quebec," it had been one of my wishes to visit the city. 
Pictures and descriptions, I found, had given me a very 



372 AT H05IE AND ABROAD. 

accurate idea of its appearance. The higb, massive, steep* 
roofed stone houses, crowded together at the foot of 
the rock, and climbing around its eastern side, the nar« 
row, crooked streets, old churches, contracted, badly- 
paved squares, and the citadel, with its huge walls of de- 
fence, crowning all, exactly answered my anticipations; 
but I was conscious of disappointment in one particular. 
The rock is not a perpendicular cliff, but sloping, covered 
with a growth of hardy shrubs, and capable of being scaled 
in some places. I read, some years ago, of a soldier on 
guard having incautiously stepped over the edge, and 
fallen two hundred and fifty-seven feet through the air, 
alighting upon a pile of earth in the back-yard of a house 
below, without any other inconvenience than a g3neral 
sense of soreness, from which he recovered in a few days ! 
This struck me as one of the most beautiful accidents of 
which I had ever heard. I placed it on my list of " remark- 
able escapes," beside the case of the Vermont quarryman 
who had a crow-bar shot through his brain. But I fear I 
must give it up. When I came to look at the citadel, I 
found no place where such an accident could possibly 
happen. A man, indeed, might roll from top to bottom, 
and find himself sore at the end of the journey. 

We again walked on Durham Terrace, the view from 
which surpasses that from Calton Hill, in Edinburgh. The 
Citadel cannot be entered mthout a special permission. 
The flat summit of the hill, westward, is the celebrated 
Plain of Abraham, which we saw from the other side of 
the St. Lawrence, but were not able to visit. In fact, when 
we left Quebec, it was with the consciousness that we had 



TRAVELS AT IIOilE. 37S 

not done justice either to its natural beauties or its historio 
associations. Several weeks might be spent with great 
pleasure and profit here, and in the neighboring portions 
of Lower Canada. 

It is pleasant to notice the friendly feeling which is 
growing up between the inhabitants of Canada and the 
United States. The number of American tourists and 
sportsmen who come this way is annually increasing, and 
with it there is a certain assimilation of habits, by which 
both parties are the gainers. For travellers the frontier 
is but a nominal line, and in the newer parts of Canada 
there is nothing biit the preponderance of English faces 
among the inhabitants to indicate a difference of nation- 
ality. On steamboats, and in hotels, the two peoples fra- 
ternize readily and naturally, and discuss their points of 
difference without acrimony. Twenty years ago this was 
not the case. An American Avas looked upon with preju- 
dice, if not with suspicion, and if he settled in the country 
was treated as an unwelcome intruder. Now, there are 
communities of American residents in Montreal, Toronto, 
and the towns of Canada West, many of whom are deserv- 
edly honored by their Canadian brethren. The increased 
facilities of intercourse, the intimacy of commercial rela- 
tions, and, above all, the difference of tone adopted towards 
the United States by the English Government— ;/br Canada 
not only reflects^ hut exaggerates English opinion* — have 

* The reader will naturally compare this expression, written in July, 
1860, with the present condition of aflfairs (December, 1861). Nothing 
seems to be so reckless and fickle as the tone of popular sentiment. Three 
months after my visit to Quebec the heir to England's throne was received 



374 AT HOME AND xVBEOAD. 

wrought an entire revolution in public sentiment. Let me 
confess, also, that this change is reciprocal. ISTo decent 
American can visit Canada without finding many people 
whom he can esteem, and, when he is temj^ted to pick at 
the flaws of the Colonial Government, let him first think 
of the flimsy patches in the woof of his own. 



6. — ^XJp THE Saguenay. 

Lkt us now step on board the steamer Magnet^ Capt. 
Howard, bound for the Saguenay River. Most of the Summer 
tourists whom we had met at Russell's, on our arrival, were 
booked for the same trip, and of the hundred passengers on 
board, more than half were Americans. The remainder 
were English Canadians, bound for the various watering- 
places down the St. Lawrence. As so much — nay, all — of 
our enjoyment depended on the weather, it was comforting 
to find the morning mist rolled away, the sky clear, and a 
warm, genial sun in the midst of it. 

The St. Lawrence, which, at Quebec, is not more than 

in the United States with a welcome, truly sublime in its sincerity and 
generosity. Now, the English press and people, and their subservient 
imitators in Canada, are convulsed with a madness — so blind and unrea- 
sonable that it taxes our powers of belief — to rush to war in consequence 
of a slight technical difference, and in defence of an " institution," which 
they have heretofore held in utter abhorrence I "Who shall venture to 
write history when the professed " moral sense " of half a century turns 
out to have been a sham — when England,' whose conscience on this point, 
at least, was conceded, becomes the Pecksniff" of nations? 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 375 

a mile wide, broadens immediately below the city into a 
majestic expanse of water, which the great Isle d'Orleans 
divides into two nearly equal arms. The hm-ricane-deck 
of the steamer, from the moment of departm-e, offered us a 
panorama so grand, and fair, and attractive on all sides, that 
the fear of losing any portion of it kept us vibrating from 
fore to aft, and from aft forward again. Behind us lay the 
city, with its tinned roofs glittering in the morning sunshine, 
and its citadel-rock towering over the river ; on the south- 
ern shore. Point Levi, picturesquely climbing the steep 
bank, embowered in dark trees ; then the w^ooded bluffs 
with their long levels of farm-land behind them, and the 
scattered cottages of the habitans^ while, northward the 
shore rose with a gradual, undulating sweep, glittering, far 
inland, with houses, and gardens, and crowding villages, 
until it reached the dark, stormy line of the Laurentian 
Mountains in the north-east. In front, the Isle of Orleans 
reproduced the features of the shores. Pictures so bright, 
so broad, so crowded with life and beauty, I had not 
expected to find. 

" This is no longer America," said my friends. There 
was not a feature in all the wide view (except our double- 
decked steamer), to remind us of the l!^ew World; yet, on 
the other hand, we could not have referred it to any one 
portion of Europe. The sky, the air, the colors of the land- 
scape, were from ISTorway ; Quebec and the surrounding vil 
lages suggested Normandy — except the tin roofs and spires, 
which were Kussian, rather ; while here and there, though 
rarely, were the marks of English occupancy. The age, the 
order, the apparent stability and immobility of society, a? 



3 76 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

illustrated by external things, belonged decidedly to EnropCs 
This part of Canada is but seventy or eighty years oldei 
than New-England, yet there seems to be a difference of 
five hundred years. A century of foreign domination has 
made no material change in the character and habits of the 
French population. In fact, the change in the peasantry 
of France has been much greater during the same period. 
That magic atmosphere of the Past, which makes Europe 
so attractive to an American, already spreads a thin veil 
over these Canadian shores. 

As we approached the end of the Isle d'Orleans, a spar- 
kle of silver light shone through the trees fringing the chasm 
on the northern shore — then a long, wavy line, and, at 
length, the whole cascade of Montmorenci opened to the 
view, glittering in the sun. We were two or three miles 
distant, and no sound reached our ears, but the movement 
of the falling water, the silent play of airiest light and sha- 
dow over its face — like ripples on a skein of snowy silk — ■ 
was exquisitely beautiful. Many varieties of scenery as I 
have looked upon, it was at last something new to see a 
great waterfall set in the midst of a vast, sunny landscape, 
where it is seen as one of many features, and not itself the 
point to which all others are subordinate. 

Taking the channel between Isle d'Orleans and the south 
shore, we lost sight of Quebec, and settled ourselves quietly 
on the forward deck, to contemplate the delicious pastoral 
pictures which were unfolded on either side. The island, 
which is twenty miles long, is densely populated and most 
thoroughly cultivated. The high, undulating hills are 
dotted with cottages, mostly v/hite as snow, roof and all- 



TRAVELS AT HOME. Si'l 

md every cove of the irregular shore has its village. Most 
of the St. Lawrence pilots hav^e their homes upon this island, 
the population of which is exclusively French. The per- 
manence of habits to which I have referred, is exhibited on 
the southern shore of the river, where the broad, original 
fields of the father have been portioned among his children, 
and their diminished inheritances among theirs, until you 
see narrow ribbons of soil rather than fields. There is thus 
an apparent density of population, an aspect of age and long 
culture, which is scarcely to be seen anywhere else on the 
American Continent. 

The grand features of the scenery, no less than the power 
of transmitted associations, must bind these people to their 
homes. They are happy, contented, and patriotic — if such 
a term can be properly applied to them, who, governed by 
a foreign race, have forgotten the ties which once bound 
them to their own. The soil, I believe, is good, but the 
climate — that of lat. 60° on the European Coast — makes 
their lives necessarily laborious, and diminishes the profits 
of agriculture to such an extent that most of them barely 
live. Cattle must be stabled during seven months of the 
year, and when the hay-crop fails, as this Summer, half their 
resources fail with it. A gentleman who owns a farm on 
the northern shore informed me that he can just support 
his family, and no more. Another, who has several cows 
during the Summer, which are valued at $20 apiece, sells 
them in the Fall, on ascertaining that it costs just |28 to 
keep them through the Winter. By buying fresh ones in 
the Spring, he saves $8 a head. It is now the height of Sum- 
mer, and a wind is blowing which makes us shiver : whal 



378 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

must it be in the dead of Winter? I never visit these 
northern regions without a vivid recollection of those tropic 
islands where life is one long, splendid Summer — where 
twenty days' work in every year will support a man. Here, 
however, is a Aome, as well as there ; and, so long as a man 
is happy, it makes no difference whether he lives at the 
Equator or the North Pole. 

Below the Isle d'Orleans, the St. Lawrence exhibits a 
majestic breadth. In fact, this is already an inlet of the 
sea rather than a river. The water is brackish at flood-tide, 
-and the wand soon gets up a disagreeable sea. At Quebec, 
the rise and fall of the tides is sixteen feet, but in the Lower 
St. Lawrence it frequently amounts almost to a hore. Seve- 
ral low, wooded islands succeed ; the Laurentian Mountains 
come down boldly to the river on the north, and as we stand 
across toward Murray Bay, the south shore fades into a dim 
blue line, above which rise, in the distance, groups of lofty 
hills. These are the connecting link between the White 
Mountains and the Laurentian chain, which stretches away 
across the country to the coast of Labrador. We ran along 
the bases of headlands, one thousand to fifteen hundred feet 
in height, wild and dark with lowering clouds, gray with 
rain, or touched wdth a golden transparency by the sunshine 
— alternating belts of atmospheric effect, which greatly in- 
creased their beauty. Indeed, all of us who saw the Low^er 
St. Lawrence for the first time were surprised by the impos- 
ing character of its scenery. 

The Isle aux Coudres, which we next passed, is a beauti- 
ful pastoral mosaic, in the pale emerald setting of the river. 
Here, I am told, the hahitans retain their ancient customs 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 3*79 

lo a greater extent than in any other part of Lower Canada. 
One need not refer to History to ascertain their Xorman 
descent : it is sufficiently exhibited in their fields, cottages, 
and gardens. . 

Murray Bay, a short distance beyond, is the fashionable 
watering-place on the north shore, as Kakouna is for tlic 
southern. It is a small cove, opening up into a picturesque 
dell among the mountains. Access to it is had by means of 
an immense wooden pier — a Government work, built by con- 
tract, and, of course, put in the wrong place. " It seems, 
then," I said to the Canadian gentleman who imparted to 
me this piece of information, "that your Government jobs 
are no better performed than ours." " Oh, much worse," 
was his answer. " Is it possible they can be worse ?" I asked 
incredulously. " I assure you," said he, " our official cor- 
ruption surpasses yours ; but we have the English reluc- 
tance to say much about suck things. We quietly cover 
up, or ignore, what we cannot help ; whereas, you, in the 
States, make an outcry from one end of the land to the 
other. The difference is not in the fact, but in the procla- 
mation of it." If this view be true, it is consoling to us, 
but discouraging to humanity. 

The wind blew violently from the west, and our steamer 
pitched dangerously at the end of the pier. The passengers 
were thrust up the plank, or tumbled down it, to the great 
diversion of a crowd of spectators, whose appetites were 
whetted by the prospect of an accident. I was much amused 
by the timidity of three priests, who, when the vessel gave 
a mild lurch, sprang to some awning-stanchions with every 
appearance of extreme terror. One of them, seeing no othei 



380 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

support near at hand, seized upon a lady, and clung to her 
arm rather longer than was necessary. They then rushed 
collectively into the cabin, whence they did not emerge 
afterward, although the water became smooth. This re- 
minds me of the singular fact that the most timorous class 
of persons at sea are clergymen. Why those who can cou- 
rageously face death in other forms should exhibit this 
weakness, I am at a loss to understand, but the fact is so 
patent as to have become a sailor's proverb. 

A jolly, red-gilled, full-blooded Englishman, lying at full 
length on a narrow lintel above the gangway, was recount- 
ing his exploits in trout-fishing. I forget how many hundred 
he had caught in the mountain-streams .the day before. 
" How about the bathing ?" asked some one. " CajDital !" 
he exclaimed, " I had a bath to-day." We were wrapped 
in the thickest shawls, and the bare idea made us shudder, 
but one look at the speaker, whose frame contained latent 
carbon enough to melt an iceberg, explained to me the 
mystery of bathing in such waters. We, who are thin- 
blooded Southerners, in comparison, would not have found 
it so enjoyable. 

Leaving Murray Bay, we stood diagonally across the St. 
Lawrence to Riviere du Loup, which is on the southern 
shore, nearly a hundred miles below Quebec. The river is 
here about twenty-five miles wide, and presents a clear sea- 
horizon to the eastward. It was almost sunset when we 
succeeded in making fast to the long pier, and the crowd 
oi habitans^ with their ricketty, one-horse caleches^ who 
had been patiently watching our battle with the wind for 
an hour or more, were enabled to offer their services. Some 



1"RAVELS AT HOSIE. 381 

of our passengers were bound for Kakouna, six miles fur- 
ther clown tlie shore, and landed here ; while those who 
had shipped for the entire trip were anxious to visit the 
village, whose white houses, and tall gray church crowning 
the hill, gleamed softly in the last gold of the sun. It was 
pleasant to find hackmen who could accost you once, and 
once only, in an ordinary tone of voice, and whose first de- 
mands were moderate enough to be accepted. 

I chose an honest fellow, whose face was English, though 
his language and nature were decidedly French, and pre- 
sently we were bouncing in his car over a rough road, 
around the deep cove which separates the landing-place 
from the village of Riviere du Loup. '•^Yoila du ton hie!'''* 
said he, pointing to some fields of very scanty oats, and his 
admiration appeared so genuine that I was compelled to 
admire them also. " Voire cheval est hoiteux^'' I replied, 
pointing to his limping horse. " OJi^ pardon^ monsieur /" 
said he, " c'est une jument, vaillante^ vigour euse ! Get up, 
ma paresseusse .'" and with an extra shake of the lines, away 
we dashed, showering the mud on all sides. By this time, 
the sun had set, and the village appeared before us, neat, 
trim, and home-like, with a quaint, Old-World air. Houses 
one story high, scrupulously white-washed doors, raised 
above the average level of the winter snows, well-kept gar 
dens, and clean gravel roads, were the principal features of 
the place. The river comes down a wild glen in Uvo bold 
waterfalls, and finishes its course by driving a large flour 
mill. A mile inland is the terminus of the St. Lawrence 
branch of the Grand Trunk Railroad. 

We drove around and through the village in the gather- 



382 AT HOME AH^D ABROAD. 

ing twilight, visited the new Catholic Church, of immense 
dimensions, and finally turned about, on the top of the hill, 
w^hence a broad, macadamized road struck southward into 
the country. This was the Government highway to St. 
Johns, New Brunswick, three hundred miles distant. It 
is now finished, with the exception of eighteen miles along 
Lake Temiscouata, which will be comj)leted this year. 
The American frontier is not more than thirty or forty 
miles distant from Riviere du Loup. The overland jour- 
ney from the Bay of Fundy to the St. Lawrence offers 
many inducements to the home tourist. Were I travelling 
alone, I should undertake it myself. In winter, the trip 
from Riviere du Loup to Madawaska is sometimes made in 
a day. 

The Magnet lay at the pier until three o'clock this morn- 
ing, when she started for the Saguenay, across the St. Law- 
rence, but twenty-seven miles distant. When I went on 
deck, we were passing Tadoussac, a post of the Hudson's 
Bay Company, just inside the Saguenay. Here, an old 
Jesuit church is pointed out to the visitor as the first 
church built on the American continent. This must be a 
mistake, however, as one which was built by Cortez is 
still standing in Yera Cruz, and Jacques Cartier's first visit 
to Canada was made, I believe, in 1542. Nevertheless, 
the little chapel of Tadoussac is not only an interesting 
antiquity, but a picturesque object in itself. Two miles 
further is Z^Anse a PJEau, a lumber station, where we 
touched, and where, to my regret, Mr. Witcher, an official 
surveyor, whose conversation I had found very instructive, 
left us. 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 383 

Passing around the headland of La Boule, we found our- 
selves at last surrounded with the gray rocks of the Sague- 
nay.. The morning was clear, but cold ; an icy wind blew 
down . the river, and the more delicate lady-passengers 
congregated about the cabin-stove. No magical illusions 
of atmosphere enwrap the scenery of this northern river. 
Everything is hard, naked, stern, silent. Dark-gray cliffs 
of granitic gneiss rise from the pitch-black water ; firs of 
gloomy green are rooted in their crevices and fringe their 
summits ; loftier ranges, of a dull, indigo hue, show them- 
selves in the background, and, over all, bends a pale, cold, 
northern sky. This keen air, which brings out every object 
with a crystalline distinctness, even contracts the dimen- 
sions of the scenery, diminishes the height of the cliffs, 
and apparently belittles the majesty of the river, so that 
the first impression is one of disappointment. Still, it 
exercises a fascination which you cannot resist. You look, 
and look, fettered by the fresh, novel, savage stamp which 
E'ature exhibits, and at last, as in St. Peter's or at Niagara, 
learn from the character of the separate features to appre- 
ciate the grandeur of the whole. 

The Saguenay is not, properly, a river. It is a tremen- 
dous chasm, -like that of the Jordan Valley and the Dead 
Sea, cleft for sixty miles through the heart of a mountain 
wilderness. The depth of the water varies from twenty- 
five to one hundred and forty-seven fathoms, and the 
height of the rocks on either side from five hundred to 
fifteen hundred feet. On approaching Chicoutimi, sixty 
miles from the St. Lawrence, the river suddenly becomes 
shallow, and thence to Lake St. John it is an insignificant 



384 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

Stream, navigable only for canoes. The upjDer valley^ 
which is rapidly becoming settled, is said to be very fertile, 
and to possess a milder climate than Quebec, although 
nearly two degrees further north. But from L'Anse a 
I'Eau to Ha-ha Bay, the extent of our voyage, there are not 
more than half a dozen places where a settler could find 
room enough for a house and garden. 

Steadily upwards we went, the windings of the river and 
its varying breadth — from half a mile to nearly two miles 
— giving us a shifting succession of the grandest pictures. 
Shores that seemed roughly piled together out of the frag- 
ments of chaos overhuDg us — great masses of rock, gleam- 
ing duskily through their scanty drajDery of evergreens, 
here lifting long, irregular walls against the sky, there split 
into huge, fantastic forms by deep lateral gorges, up which 
we saw the dark-blue crests of loftier mountains in the 
rear. The water beneath us was black as night, with a 
pitchy glaze on its surface, and the only life in all the 
savage solitude, was, now and then, the back of a white 
jjorpoise, in some of the deeper coves. 

By nine o'clock, we saw the headMnd of Eternity before 
us, with Trinity beyond. These two celebrated capes are 
on the western bank of the Saguenay, divided by a cove 
about half a mile wide. They are gray, streaked masses 
of perpendicular rock, said to be fifteen hundred feet in 
height. By the eye alone, I should not have estimated 
I hem at over one thousand feet, but I w^as assured the 
height had been ascertamed by actual measurement. Cer- 
tain it is, they aj^pear much higher on the second than or 
the first view. These awful cliifs, planted in water nearly a 



TBAVELS AT HOME. 385 

thousand feet deep, and soaring into the very sky, form the 
gateway to a rugged valley, stretching inland, and covered 
with the dark, primeval forest of the North. I doubt 
whether a sublimer picture of the wilderness is to be found 
on this continent. 

Toward noon, we reached Ha-ha Bay, which is a branch 
or inlet of the river, some miles in length. At its extre- 
mity, there is a flourishing settlement. The hills around 
were denuded of their forests ; fields of wheat, oats, and 
barley, grew on the steep slopes, and the cold ridges were 
dotted with hay-cocks. Capt. Howard gave us but an 
hour, but we determined to spend the most of it ashore. 
As we approached the beach in the steamer's boat, we 
noticed a multitude of caleches^ drawn by ponies, standing 
in the water. Presently we grounded, and there was a 
rush of vehicles to our rescue. With infinite yelling and 
splashing, and much good-humored emulation on the part 
of the drivers, half a dozen caleches were backed out 
against the boat (the water rising over the shafts), and we 
stepped into them. Away went the delighted coachmen, 
and our wheeled gondolas soon reached the shore. The 
village contains about a hundred houses, most of which 
were quite new. I noticed some cherry and plum trees in 
the gardens, and the usual vegetables, which appeared to 
thrive very well. 

Our coachman, an habitant^ was loud in his praises of 
the place, although he had so little to show us. " Where 
is the hotel ?'' I asked, after we had seen all the cottages 
and saw-mills. "There is none,'' he answered. "But 
where do strangers go, when they come here ?" " Why," 

17 



386 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

said he, with a grin, " they dorCt come !" Thereupon, we 
drove hurriedly back into the water, stepped from our 
carriages into the boat, and returned to the steamer. 

Our return down the Saguenay convinced me that the 
scenery of the river cannot be properly appreciated at a 
single visit. Viewing the same objects a second time, we 
found them markedly grander and more imposing. The 
river is a reproduction — truly on a contracted scale — of 
the fjords of the ISTorwegian coast. One of my companions 
was also a fellow-traveller in Norway with me three years 
ago, and was no less struck with the resemblance than 
myself. The dark mountains, the tremendous precipices, 
the fir forests, even the settlements at Ha-ha Bay and 
L'Anse h I'Eau (except that the houses are white instead 
of red), are as completely Norwegian as they can be. The 
Scandinavian skippers who come to Canada all notice this 
resemblance, and many of them, I learn, settle here. 

As we passed again under the headlands of Trinity and 
Eternity, I tried my best to make them fifteen hundred 
feet in height — but without success. The rock of Gibraltar 
and Horseman Island, both of which attain that height, 
loomed up, in my memory, to a much loftier elevation. 
The eye, however, is likely to be deceived, when all the 
proportions of a landscape are on the same vast scale ; as in 
St. Peter's, the colossal cherubs which hold the font, 
appear, at the first glance, to be no larger than children of 
six years old. From long practice, I can measure heights 
and distances with tolerable accuracy by the eye, under 
ordinary circumstances ; but even our most certain and 
carefully-trained faculties are more or less influenced by 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 387 

habit. The compositor, who has been using minion type 
for some days, knows how unusually large long primer 
appears, and how small, after pica. I have no doubt but 
that the dimensions of the Saguenay scenery were some- 
Avhat dwarfed to me, by coming directly from the White 
Mountains. 

Capt. Howard kindly ran his boat a little out of her 
course, to give us the best view of Trinity and the sublime 
landscape of Eternity Cove. The wall of dun-colored 
syenitic granite, ribbed with vertical streaks of black, hung 
for a moment directly over our heads, as high as three 
Trinity spires, atop of one another. Westward, the wall 
ran inland, projecting bastion after bastion of inaccessible 
rock over the dark forests in the bed of the valley. A 
photographer on board took two or three views, but no 
artist, either human or solar, can give more than the 
faintest hint of such scenery, because a near view is impos- 
sible, and the effect diminishes in geometrical ratio as you 
recede. 

Leaving the black water and the giant cliffs behind us, 
w^e steamed across the St. Lawrence to E-iviere du Loup, 
which we reached at dusk. The same crowd of Canadian 
teams waited patiently on the long pier, but waited in vain. 
Our captain took advantage of the moonlight to continue 
his journey, and we slept until morning dawned on the Isle 
Aux Coudres. A slight accident detained us an hour or 
more, and we did not see the silvery roofs of Quebec until 
after noon. I^evertheless, we were so well satisfied with 
the trip, that most of us would have willingly repeated it. 



388 at home and abroad. 

7. — Niagara, and its Visitors. 

We were to have left Montreal at nine o'clock in the 
evening — the regular hour for the starting of the night 
express on the Grand Trunk Koad ; but, as the train from 
the East had not arrived, ours was kept waiting. After a 
delay of an hour and a half, we had our beds made and 
went to sleep. Somewhere near midnight, I heard the 
noise of departure, mingled with the swearing of various 
western passengers, who were anxious to reach Milwaukee 
by Sunday morning. There was no additional delay on the 
road, however, and on reaching Toronto the next day at 
noon, the train for Sarnia w^as found waiting in the same 
obliging manner. The scenery through which the road 
passes is rather tame, with the exception of the last divi- 
sion, along the shores of Lake Ontario, where many a 
charming little bay opens out between low, wooded head- 
lands and discloses the blue water horizon. 

I have been interested, during the whole progress of this 
trip, in observing the manners and peculiarities of travellers 
from different portions of the United States. It is not dif- 
ficult to distinguish, after a little practice, those who come 
from New-England, ISTew-York, Philadelphia, the South, 
and the West. The highest cultivation, of course, is that 
which casts off all local characteristics, and impresses you 
with the stamp of an individuality independent of place, 
profession, or even nationality. Such persons may be found 
in all portions of our country, but they are rare apparitions. 
Nine men out of every ten whom you meet have an odor 
of their native soil about them. 



TIIAVELS AT HOME. 389 

The !N'ew-England tourist has a grave, respectable air. 
He is slightly petulant with regard to accommodations, 
charges, food, and the like. His face is generally thin (the 
lips particularly so), rarely bearded, his voice even and of 
little depth or compass, and his language marked with a 
certain precision, betraying a consciousness of, or at least a 
belief in, its accuracy. Sometimes he wears gold-rimmed 
spectacles. He does not insist upon an introduction before 
speaking to a fellow-traveller, but he speaks with a calm 
decorum, which says : " I am a very proper person for you 
to know." This is his outward shell. Under it you will 
find a good deal of sohd information, a fair capacity for 
enjoyment, positive opinions (rather too much so, perhaps,) 
on all subjects, and a genuine appreciation of Nature. 
He is by no means the worst companion you could have 
on a journey. 

The Xew- Yorker is mellower and more demonstrative. 
He is also more flexible in his nature, fraternizes more 
readily with others, and is less precise, both in person and 
speech. His language is not so carefully chosen, but his 
voice has more variety of modulation. He dresses well, 
and affects a careless elegance of appearance. He gene- 
rally possesses his own private enthusiasm for something or 
other, which he is not afraid to display. His philological 
peculiarity lies in voice rather than in accent, though he 
says doo instead of due^ etc. (understand, I am speaking of 
the average man), rather oftener than the Kew-Englander. 
He also pronounces the a in palm^ pass^ etc, a little closer. 
He makes acquaintances with ease, and forgets them, ditto. 
He has his opinions, but as he is not certain that he may 



390 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

not change them some time, can listen cheerfully to con- 
trary views. 

The Philadelphian, in the primness of his deportment, 
resembles the New-Englander. The Quaker and the Puri- 
tanic elements have this point of contact. There is this 
difference, however : you will not hear the Philadelphian 
talk fifteen minutes without his mentioning Philadelphia. 
His face, though generally thin, has also a warmer color, 
and his mouth more of the Southern fulness. Yet, notwith- 
standing this, there is something pinched and contracted in 
his personality, which I find difficult to describe. Perhaps 
it lies mainly in his voice, which is thin and sharp. He 
pronounces the a in palm^ calm.^ and kindred words, like 
the a in hat. He also snubs all the short vowels, saying 
proinus^ spirut^ morula mod% &g. — which, by-the-by, is an 
inelegance very general in the United States. I have even 
heard some persons affect an elegance by changing the 
short vowels into short ^, as moril^ gospil^ iffectuil! The 
Philadelphian has much quiet warmth of character. He is 
a good friend and a hospitable host. Though not so free 
and easy in his intercourse as a New-Yorker, it does not 
require a hard knock to open his shell. 

There are two classes of Southern tourists. The first, 
which you occasionally meet, exhibit a rare refinement of 
character. The gentleman of this class is quiet, cultivated, 
earnest — a little exacting, perhaps — and a specimen of that 
genuine good breeding, which is natural and unconscious, 
and hence never makes a mistake. The other variety, 
which is very common, is marked by a bold, swaggering 
air, neglects no opportunity of assertion, and is morbidly 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 39 J 

alert to discover some ground of offence. It is a curious 
fact that, during this trip, Avhenever I have heard loud and 
coarse conversation in railroad-cars, swearing at hotel tables, 
or impertinent or offensive criticism of the place or country, 
the parties proved, in every instance, to be Southerners ! 
If the features of the Southern tourist did not proclaim his 
nativity, his voice would at once betray him. His accent 
almost invariably betrays the fact that he has played with 
young darkies, as a child. He not only says — whar and 
thar — very often lohah and thah — ^but pore and shore (for 
poor^ sure)^ and generally drops the r altogether, after the 
manner of an English exquisite. He cannot say " master'''* 
without an effort. When I was in the ISTavy, a Virginia 
captain always called me " mails'^ mate'''' (master's mate). 
The other day I was profoundly surprised at hearing a 
young lady, of a distinguished Southern family, say : 
" H''ya}Cs the do I"*^ Some persons pretend to admire this, 
affirming that it gives a softness to the language — which is 
true ; but it is too soft altogether. 

The Southerner — refined or vulgar — always has this to 
recommend him, that he is free, frank, and companionable, 
perfectly unreserved in the expression" of his opinions, though 
his manner be a little arrogant, and wholly impulsive and 
uncalculating. He will fight and be reconciled with you 
ten times, while the N'ew-Englander is slowly making his 
way to a single, life-long enmity. 

The Western man may be pretty correctly described, if 
you know the latitude in which he lives. New-England is 
reproduced in Northern Ohio, Michigan, and Wisconsin ; 
NTew York in Chicago and Iowa ; Pennsylvania in Southern 



392 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

Ohio and the States west, in the same line ; and Virginia 
and Kentucky in Southern Dlinois and Missouri. He has 
no especial characteristics except a certain restlessness in 
his manner and an expansive use of adjectives in his talk. 
He has a great habit of saying, "That's so!" and his loca- 
tion is denoted by the use of peculiar words and phrases 
rather than any distinctive peculiarity of accent. He has a 
rampant pride in his own particular city, and county, and 
state, and our Atlantic communities seem " slow" to him. 
He is the most demonstrative of Americans, and you never 
need to ask a second time for his opinion. He, as well as 
the Southerner, is apt to chew tobacco, and he prefers 
Bourbon to Verzenay. He does not object to a community 
of towel and hair-brush in hotels — in fact, he is easily satis- 
fied, and generally of a very cheerful and jovial tempera- 
ment. 

I have only given a few general indications, and wish it 
to be distinctly understood that they are meant for classes, 
and not individuals. The manners of the travelling public 
■have gxeatly improved since I made my first summer trip, 
thirteen years ago, and in this particular there is not much 
difference between the different sections of the country: 
the provincialisms of speech and habits, however, are not so 
easily obliterated. 

We stopped at Toronto in order to take the afternoon 
boat across the lake to Lewiston. Our baggage having 
been sent to the landing-place half an hour before the 
departure of the steamer, we were called upon to pay a 
wharfage fee of twenty cents. " If you had come in a car- 
riage," said the agent (or whoever he was), " there would 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 393 

have been no charge !" This is a refinement of extortion 
worthy of a better field of action. 

A mirage lifted the southern shore of the Ontario to 
view, so clearly that we could distinguish single trees. A 
gentleman informed me that the spray-cloud of Niagara is 
sometimes visible at Toronto. We had a lovely but windy 
afternoon for the transit, and the beryl-colored waters of 
the lake were so rough that a pale and wretched looking 
crowd appeared on the deck, as we ran into the mouth of 
!N"iagara River. I was glad for the sake of my friends, that 
we had, chosen this avenue of approach to the Falls. The 
picturesque shores of the river, the splendid green of the 
water, and the lofty line of the upper plateau in front, 
crowned with Brock's Monument, and divided by the dark, 
yawning gorge of Niagara, form a fitting vestibule to the 
grand adytum beyond. The railroad, climbing rapidly 
from the station behind Lewiston, piercing the rocky bluff 
and boldly skirting the tremendous abyss, commands a 
complete view of the river — with the exception of the bend 
at the Whirlpool — from the lake to the Falls. The chasm 
grows wilder, deeper, and more precij^itous with every 
mile, until having seen the Suspension Bridge apparently 
floating in air, on your right, you look ahead, and two 
miles off, catch a glimpse of the emerald crest of ISTiagara 
standing fast and fixed above its shifting chaos of snowy 
spray ! • 

I have seen the Falls in all weathers, and in all seasons, 
but to my mind the winter view is most beautiful. I saw 
them first during the hard winter of 1854, when a hundred 
cataracts of ice hung from the cliffs on either side, when 

17^ 



394 AT UOME AXD ABROAD. 

the masses of ice brought down from Lake Erie were 
wedged together at the foot, uniting the shores with a 
rugged bridge, and when every twig of every tree and 
bush on Goat Island was overlaid, an inch deep, with a 
coating of solid crystal. The air was still, and the sun 
shone in a cloudless sky. The green of the fall, set in a 
landscape of sparkling silver, was infinitely more brilliant 
than in summer, when it is balanced by the trees, and the 
rainbows were almost too glorious for the eye to bear. 1 
was not impressed by the sublimity of the scene, nor even 
by its terror, but solely by the fascination of its wonderful 
beauty — a fascination which continually tempted me to 
plunge into that sea of fused emerald and lose myself in 
the dance of the rainbows. .With each succeeding visit, 
Niagara has grown in height, in power, in majesty, in 
solemnity ; but I have seen its climax of beauty. 

To my friends, it is all they had been promised, and 
more ; and I have enjoyed anew, in their enjoyment, the 
views from the rocks, the delicious walks on Goat Island, 
the bewildering pictures of the rapids, and the stunning 
roar and ceaseless rain at the bottom. I watched by the 
hour, the piling up and sliding away of the huge masses of 
water, the downward blossoming into vast, umbelliferous 
flowers of spray, the cloudy whirl and confusion below, 
and the endless, endless motion through the same unchang- 
ing forms, with a delight, which, it seems to me, could not 
be wearied out in a lifetime. Of course, we have taken a 
trip in the " Maid of the Mist," gone behind the sheet, and 
done everything else that is usually done (and let me say, 
all of them are worth doing). Niagara is a diamond with a 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 395 

himdred facets, every one of which reflects a different 
lustre. 

One is rather bored here by the Indian curiosities and 
the solicitous hack-drivers. Tlie articles in fluor spar, how- 
ever, are beautiful, and the photographic illustrations are 
commendable. The gratitude of every visitor is due to 
Mr. Porter, and the other proprietors of Goat Island, for 
the pious care with which its glorious sylvan beauty is pre- 
served. Fancy Goat Island given ujd to sj)eculators, and 
crammed with hotels and factories ! I have now and then 
seen an ill-natured remark, on account of the moderate 
toll charged for crossing the bridge ; but the entire amount 
received in this manner cannot much more than suffice to 
pay for the necessary repairs of the roads, bridges, stair- 
cases, and tower. I have never paid a fee more cheerfully, 
and every sensible visitor would rather double it than see 
one of the loveliest bits of God's creation spoiled. 

It is a little singular that all the poetry written about 
Niagara, from Brainard's pious effusion to Saxe's profane 
lyric, should be so common-place. The best of all is that 
of Lord Carlisle. Brainard commences awkwardly : — 

" The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain, 
As I gaze upward to thee." 

What good does it to us, simply to know that his 
thoughts are " strange ? " Grenville Mellen concludes a 
similar rhapsody by exclaiming: " Oh, go in!" Very 
well : but suppose you set us the example I Mr. Bulkley 
has written an epic, which is too much on the subject. If 
it were boiled down to two hundred lines, we should get a 



396 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

good concentrated flavor. The distinguishing characteristic 
of Niagara — its color — ^has been mentioned, I believe, by 
but one poet, Lowell, who says — 

" And green Niagara's never-ending roar." 

• 

As for people saying " It cannot be described," that is 
folly. It can be described just as much as anything else. 
But those who endeavor to be sublime are often simply 
highfalutin : when a man says, " I am overpowered," he is 
not in a fit state to write ; but he who looks calmly upon 
it, measures its features, analyses the impression which it 
creates, and writes with the conscientious endeavor to 
represent what he has seen, can give as good a description 
of Niagara as he could of a crab-tree in blossom, and a 
much better one than it would be possible for him to make 
of the woman whom he loves. 

I read last Winter, in one of the papers, a most admirable 
description of the falling of the water, entitled, " Niagara, 
but Not Described !'' The writer knew all the time he 
was describing it. 



8. — Tkenton Falls and Saeatoga. 

At Niagara our party dissolved. On Tuesday night my 
German friend took the midnight train westward, intend- 
ing to visit Minnesota, Missouri, and Kentucky, and on the 
following morning accompanying the ladies as far asUtica, 
whence they continued the homeward journey, I turned 
aside for a solitary excursion to Trenton Falls. 



TEAVELS AT HOME. 397 

The l^ew York Central, after leaving the Mohawk Val- 
ley, seems to avoid all the best scenery. I have frequently 
noticed how completely the landscapes change, when you 
have gone but a few miles either to the north or the south 
of the road. The immediate neighborhood of Utica is 
rather tame, but, on taking the Black River train it pre- 
sently assumes a charming pastoral character, which verges 
into the picturesque as you approach Trenton. In an hour 
I was put down at the station, where omnibuses were in 
waiting to carry us to Moore's Hotel, a mile distant. " Is 
the hotel fuU ?" I asked of the driver. " Oh, no," said he ; 
" there is plenty of room ;" but, on arriving, I found it 
overflowing with guests, and no place to be had. I was 
fortunate enough, however, to find quarters at Joy's, near 
at hand, and after admiring the beauty and seclusion of 
the valley for half an hour, set out in search of my friend 
Hicks. 

It was the night of the full moon, and the guests at 
Moore's had sent to the Wide-Awake Club of Utica to 
borrow torches for a nocturnal visit to the glen. Mr. 
Moore, whose acquaintance I had made in Hicks's studio, 
the artist and his wife, and a merry company of at least a 
hundred ladies and gentlemen, were preparing to go, and I 
congratulated myself on arriving in season to join them. 
We started a little after nine o'clock, taking the path 
which leads through the forest to the top of the High Fall. 
The straggling procession, at least two hundred yards 
long, with its line of brilliant lights, winding through the 
dense shadows of the wood, produced a magical effect. 
Gray trunks and hanging boughs flashed out for a moment 



398 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

in golden lustre against the darkness, and then as suddenly 
vanished ; red shawls glimmered splendidly through the 
dusky green ; white dresses danced in and out of the gaps 
of moonlight with an elfish motion, and a confusion of 
shouts and laughter rang through the echoing hollows. 

The moon stood over the gorge, which, as we approached, 
seemed filled with a silvery mist, beyond which rose the 
shadowy outline of the opposite bank. The crest of the 
cataract shone with sparkles of white fire, and dim, shoot- 
ing gleams hovered over the gulf into which it fell. The 
leaves of the overhanging boughs were cut as clearly as 
bronze against this wonderful picture. It was lovely 
enough to have been a grot in the gardens of Calypso or 
Armida. Many of the company went down the rocks to 
the foot of the fall, and saw it through the rainbows of the 
moon ; but 1 preferred preserving my first view until sun- 
rise. 

The next morning I accompanied the artist in a ramble 
over his farm, which lies on the eastern side of Canada 
Creek about half a mile below the village. We com- 
j)ared agricultural notes, and set off the advantages of our 
respective farms, one against the other. I* was willing 
to concede the superiority of his elms and hemlocks, but 
balanced them with my oaks and tulip trees. His potatoes 
and pumpkins looked promising, but I had very fine 
squashes and tomatoes at home. I had, moreover, the 
climate of the passion-flower and magnolia, of the Hima- 
layan deodar, the Cedar of Lebanon, and the cypress. So, 
although I admired the fine curves of the surrounding 
hills, the excellence of the tree-forms, and, most of all, 



TKAVELS AT HOME. 399 

the amber beauty of the river, I was well satisfied with my 
own piece of earth. So was he with his, and with good 
reason. 

We then made the round of the Falls, entering the glen 
from below, and ascending it for a distance of nearly two 
miles, to a point marked "Dangerous," beyond which 
there is no path. It was the loveliest possible day — one of 
those bright, laughing days which give an additional color 
and sparkle to the earth. The sun was high enough to 
illuminate the deep glen from end to end, leaving shadows 
only where the rocks overhung their bases, or the trees 
reached their arms from opposite sides, as if vainly striving 
to clasp hands. The water, also, was af its most favorable 
stage — low enough to leave the path bare, yet high enough to 
cov^er the whole breadth of rocky ledges where it falls. 
With a guide who had studied the glen for ten years with 
an artist's eye, and knew it in all its aspects, I was justified 
in considering that I saw Trenton under the most favor- 
able circumstances. 

What~^particularly struck me was the originality — ^the 
uniquity of the place. The glen, or rather cracky through 
which the stream runs, is three miles long, and not more 
than two hundred feet deep at any point. It has been cut, 
by the action of water during thousands of years, through 
a bed of mica slate, disposed in nearly horizontal strata. 
The sides, therefore, while they are perpendicular for near- 
ly the whole distance, present a great number of shelves or 
ledges, which furnish root-hold to ferns, wild flowers, shrubs, 
or even trees, according to their size, while an unbroken 
wood — a charming mixture of evergreen and deciduous 



400 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

trees — crowns the summits. Add that the glen is full of 
corners, turning this way and that, leading you now into 
black cauldrons, wet with eternal spray, now into long, 
sunny avenues, where the water dances as if possessed with 
the spirit of joy, and you may judge what a gallery of wild 
and lovely pictures is here concealed. 

The color of the water, again, is an unusual element of 
beauty. "Amber" perhaps describes it better than any 
other word, but it runs through all tints from topaz to the 
richest and deepest Yandyke-brown. Maria Lowell, in one 
of her poems, calls it " fretted Sherry." In the falls, the 
color has a warm, glassy lustre at the top, shading off 
through the successive frills of spray, until it vanishes into 
white at the bottom. Owing to this color, the water 
appears to assume an astonishing variety of forms, but I 
presume it is only because the forms are distinctly marked, 
more apparent to the eye. I have noticed the same, effect 
in the bright, green water of the Trollhatta Fall, in Swe- 
den. To be sure, the angles of the glen and the various 
positions in which the rocky shelves are disposed, are suffi- 
cient to produce every form of water, except that airy 
lace-work which is only seen in falls of great height. Here 
it falls forty feet in one unbroken sheet ; there slides down 
an inclined plane in a smooth mass splendidly feathered at 
the edges, shoots under or over another watery slide, or 
whirls in gleaming curves around a semi-basin worn in the 
rocks. 

Some of the visitors spoke of the rage of the water. To 
me it was not rage, but joy — a mad Bacchanalian revel ; 
and the resemblance to wine strengthened the impression. 



TRAVELS AT HOME. 401 

The path, which has the fascinating appearance of danger, 
without being dangerous, leads you along narrow ledges, on 
the very verge of the whirlpools and cauldrons ; so near 
the falls, that the rainbow surrounds you like a dazzling 
gossamer, and its red and gold smite you in the eyes. The 
tourists and guide-books make comparisons between Tren- 
ton and Niagara, but no comparison is possible. They are 
as unlike as Homer and Anacreon. 

I went further, the next day, simply to have one look at 
the Summer life of Saratoga : " To see the stir, and not 
feel the crowd.'' I find it delightfully gay and pleasant to 
look upon, and can easily understand why the fashionable 
world continues to drink of Congress "Water, in spite of the 
superior natural attractions of other places. The park is 
agreeable, the springs unequalled of their kind, the drives 
in the neighborhood charming, the lake accessible, and, not 
least, the hotels can accommodate their thousands without 
crowding. The village itself is hot and dusty, but there is 
shade everywhere ; and the long colonnades of the hotel 
furnish the ladies with an enviable opportunity for dis- 
play. I think I could spend an entire week here without 
getting tired. 

I have done nothing but walk up and down and contem- 
plate the multitude. In this survey two things have parti- 
cularly struck me — the absence of marked intelligence or 
cultivation in the faces of the gentlemen, and the absence 
of beauty in the faces of the ladies. Among the former, 
the trading and stock-jobbing type predominates. There is 
speculation in the eyes, railroad bonds, are written upon 
the brow, and mortgages are buttoned tightly under the 



402 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

waistcoat, on the left side. In the fragments of conversa- 
tion which reached my ears, one of the words " stocks," 
"Board," "par," "Douglas," " Breckenridge," or "Lin- 
coln," invariably occurred. Black is the prevailing color. 
The coo], light tints, so well adapted for the negligee of a 
watering-place, are very rare. The hats are mostly of the 
stove-pipe pattern. In short, the aspect of the male crowd 
shows that a struggle is going on between the desire for 
recreation and the endeavor to retain the old, respectable, 
hard-money air. 

The ladies, to my surprise, are not gorgeously over 
dressed. Here and there you see a dame at the Congress 
Springs in moire and jewels, but the majority affect an ele- 
gant simphcity which is highly becoming. At a hop last 
evening I found much more taste in costume than I had 
anticipated. Yet as I said before, there is a striking ab- 
sence of beauty. I see many pleasant and some handsome 
faces, but very, very few which can be called beautiful. In 
such a Vanity Fair as this, I had supposed that the reverse 
would have been true. Saratoga is our Ranelagh, but the 
stock on hand this year may be inferior to that of ordinary 
seasons. There is possibly less demand, as one notices little 
flirtation going on. 

As for the manners of such a place, there is not much to 
be said. You find aU the classes — the refined, the snobbish, 
and the vulgar — which enter into the composition of all 
society. The rich families have the best rooms and are best 
served at the table . (they fee the waiters heaviest) ; the 
more moderate take the odds and ends of accommodation; 
there are clans and cliques and jealousies as elsewhere; con- 



TEAYELS AT IIOilE. 403 

quests and triumphs, hatred, fidelity, infidelity, love, mar- 
riage, divorce and death. The tragedy of life dances in 
the same set with its comedy. The gentlemen have their 
side of the veranda, where they sit in arm-chairs, read the 
New York papers, smoke, and cock up their feet on the 
railing ; and the ladies theirs, where they spread their ten- 
der-tinted skirts, flutter their fans, bend their swan-like 
necks, and exchange sweet inuendoes. Outwardly, all is 
gay, innocent, cheerful, fashionably Arcadian (which con- 
sists in turning all out-of-doors into a drawing-room) — but 
I could wish, for my own private benefit, that, as in the 
shapes of the Hall of Eblis, there was a pane of glass in- 
serted in every bosom, showing the currents of the true 
and hidden life. I have no doubt that I should find — mak- 
ing all allowance for education and associations — Human 
Nature. 

I have said that this crowd is delightful to look upon. So 
it is ; but we all enjoy the vanities of the world. 



VI. 

PERSONAL SKETCHES. 



1. — ^The Leslies. 

One of the first stories 1 remember to have read, as a 
child, was " Mrs. Washington Potts," by Miss Eliza Leslie. 
It was in the days when "Atkinson's Casket" flourished, 
and The Saturday Evening Post was considered a standard 
literary paper — at least among the people whom I knew. 
Miss Leslie had then been known for many years as a writer 
of stories, which, from their covert humor and their plain, 
homely presentation of everyday characters, were very 
generally popular. Her model— if she had one — must have 
been Maria Edgeworth, but she had a fund of humor, and 
an appreciation of the comic and the grotesque, which was 
all her own. Something of Flemish fidelity belonged to her 
descriptive style, but it was always subordinate to her taste. 
Though she often introduced vulgar characters, she never 
described them vulgarly. I have never since been more 



PERSONAL SKETCHES. 405 

amused and entertained by any stories than by those from 
her pen, which I read in my boyhood, as they appeared in 
the weekly paper. 

In 1844, when I became ambitious to make myself known 
as an author, and published a thin volume of untimely 
poems. Miss Leslie was one of the first persons to whom I 
sent a copy, and her cordial letter in acknowledgment was 
one of the first voices of encouragement, which reached me. 
She treated my first crude efforts more kindly and conside- 
rately than, I fear, I should be able to do, in a similar case. 
With this admission, I venture to quote a passage from her 
letter : 

" Whenever I meet with any new evidence of the genius 
of my countrymen, it renders me superlatively happy for 
that day, and, fortunately, these days of happiness are be- 
coming more and more numerous. So, in reading your 
book, I rejoiced that there was 

One poet more, America, for thee 1' 

" When you again visit Philadelphia, I shall be very glad 
to see you at the Markoe House (my present residence), 
and to show you an admirable portrait of Franklin, copied 
from the last and best likeness of the statesman, the patriot, 
the philosopher, and the printer : the man who has always 
seemed to me as the most American of Americans — or 
rather, who was completely what an American ought 
to be." 

When I next visited Philadelphia, I called upon her, and 
w^as Keceived with genuine kindness. She was then nearly 
sixty years of age, but hale and robust, with a face attrac- 



406 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

tive in spite of its plainness, and a cheerful, merry light in 
her gray eyes. Something I said suggested to her a 
humorous story, which she told with a hearty relish. The 
portrait of Franklin was painted by her sister Anne, and 
she remarked, on stating this : " We are a family of paint- 
ers. Perhaps you have heard of my brother Charles, who 
lives in London." It chanced that I had seen engravings 
of Leslie's pictures from Don Quixote and the Merry 
Wives of Windsor, but I was not before aware of the 
relationship. 

Miss Leslie gave me some friendly advice in relation to 
poetry, which was another illustration of her sound sense. 
"I see," said she, " that you have been reading Mrs.Hemans. 
Pray don't be led by her irregular anapaestic metres to for- 
get that the simplest forms of versification are the best. 
Those jingling, slipshod measures seem to me to have been 
invented to conceal the lack of poetical conceptions. Look 
at Milton, Pope, Gray, and Goldsmith, how simple and 
straightforward are their styles ! The plainest words are 
also the best. ' England' is much finer than ' Albion,' and 
' Scotland' than ' Caledonia.' " Of course, I did not quite 
agree with her, then ; but the evident kindness with which 
her views were presented led me to ponder upon them after- 
wards, and to find that she was right. 

After my return from Europe in 1846, I visited her fre- 
quently. Among our passengers in the packet from 
London through the Channel to Portsmouth, had been 
Mr. Robert Leslie, son of the painter, and himself a painter 
also. He was a tall young man of twenty-two, and 'spent 
most of his time on deck, making sea-sketches in water 



PEESONAL SKETCHES. 407 

colors. Our captain, Morgan, had taken tbe Leslie family 
to and from America, when the painter received his appoint- 
ment to the Professorship at "West Point, and was still his 
intimate friend. Miss Leslie had therefore many questions 
to ask concerning her nephew, but in the same summer, I 
believe, he visited America. In February, 1847, she wrote 
to me : " I hear you are publishing a weekly paper. You 
will please to send it to my address : I inclose the amount 
of a year's subscription." It was a country paper, devoted 
to local news, and could have no possible interest for her — 
but she doubtless conjectured, as was true, that I was 
endeavoring to establish myself in business, and that every 
paid subscription was a real assistance. I have heard that 
she made enemies by her frankness and her scorn of all dis- 
simulation : she reserved her tact for the exercise of her 
kindness. 

Between five and six years later, I was in London for the 
fourth time, having just returned from the Orient, previous 
to making an overland journey to India. I was so fortu- 
nate as to be present at an entertainment given one evening 
by M;*. George Peabody, at which some hundreds of English 
and Americans attended. While conversing with Mr. Ab- 
bott Lawrence, a short and rather slender man, with gray 
hair and a singularly mild, pleasant, and benevolent face, 
came up and addressed him with much cordiality. " Let me 
introduce you to Mr. Leslie, whom you must know already 
as an artist," said Mr. Lawrence, turning to me. We found 
a little eddy in the apartment, outside of the crush of the 
crowd, and I enjoyed some quiet conversation with him. 
The portrait accompanying the recently published biogra^ 



408 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

pby gives the character and expression of his face very cor- 
j'ectly, although he was considerably older at the time I met 
him. All conventionalities were dropped on his learning 
of the friendship existing between his sister and myself, and 
he questioned me with an eager interest concerning her 
and his Philadelphia friends. 

On learning that I was a native of Chester comity, he 
said : ■ ' Ah, I know the Brandy wine. I spent several sum- 
mers on its banks, as a boy." " Is it still beautiful to you, 
in memory ?" I asked. " As beautiful as the reality can 
possibly be," was his answer ; " I remember the scenery 
distinctly, and I often recall the happy days I passed, ram- 
bling over the hills." " Do you not think," said I, " that 
the landscapes of that part of Pennsylvania bear a wonder- 
ful resemblance to those of England ?" " Yes, but with a 
wilder, richer character. However, it is many years since 
I saw them. I have been so long in England that my early 
life in America seems scarcely to belong to me." From 
the fondness with which the artist returned to the subject, 
it was evident that those early associations still retained all 
their charm. 

He invited me to visit his house and make the acquaint- 
ance of his family, which the shortness of my stay in Lon- 
don prevented me from doing; but I met him, together 
with two of his daughters, at the house of another Ameri- 
can banker, in the neighborhood of the city. His person- 
ality gave the impression of a very frank and simple nature, 
great sweetness of disposition, and a warm, faithful heart. 
His voice was low and agreeable, and I associate it some- 
how, in memory, with that of Leigh Hunt> Between him- 



PERSONAL SKETCHES. 409 

self and his daughters there was an affectionate tenderness 
and a reciprocal pride which was delightful to see. His 
life, indeed, was a smooth stream, having, truly, a few ob- 
stacles at the start, but flo^ving afterwards through pleasant 
fields. 

Leslie was especially fortunate in this respect, that he 
knew the exact measure of his powers. His " Clifford and 
Rutland " is the only picture of his in the grand historic 
manner which I have seen — a manner which he sj^eedily 
dropped, devoting himself, thenceforth, to those exquisite 
cabinet pictures in which he had no living superior. He 
painted, I should judge, with great raj)idity, first arranging 
and afterwards finishing, with scrupulous care. His " San- 
cho Panza and the Duchess" happened to be in the same 
room with Church's " Niagara" in London, and even the 
dazzle of the fragment of rainbow, in the latter, could not 
touch its soft, subtle harmony of coloring. 

He was a member of the Sketch Club, the products of 
two meetings whereof are in the possession of Cajjtain Mor- 
gan, who, as an honorary member, was present, and gave 
the subject. This Club met by turns at the houses of the 
members, one of whom named a subject, which the artists 
were obliged to represent in two hours. The result attained 
by this was a marvellous rapidity both of conception and 
execution. Capt. Morgan gave " Night," and Leslie's con- 
tribution is a very spirited sketch of Titania and Bottom : 
Stanfield, Roberts, and others furnished moonlit landscapes. 
The Queen, I was told, doubting the ability of the artists 
to improvise with such rapidity, asked permission to give^ a 
subject one evening. The artists assented, and at the ap- 

18 



410 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

pointed hour received a slip of paper on whicli the word 
" Desire" was written. A page was in waiting, and two 
hours afterwards Her Majesty was furnished with a dozen 
handsome illustrations of the theme. Leslie's, I believe, 
was a boy reaching from the edge of a pond, after water 
lilies. 



2. — ^The BuowmNGS. 

Few of the thousands w^ho now place the poems of Eli- 
zabeth Barrett Browning in the niche devoted to their 
favorite authors, are aware that she first became known to 
American readers as a contributor to Graham'' s Magazine. 
In the volumes of that periodical for 1841, '42, and '43, 
they will find her " Child and Watcher," " Sleep," " Cata- 
rina to Camoens," and many other of her minor poems. 
I think it was Poe who was first to recognize a genius 
hitherto unknown, but destined to a speedy and permanent 
popularity. Her power (so rare an element in female 
poets), fulness, tenderness, and the haunting music of her 
verses, which an occasional roughness only made more pro- 
minent, were at once acknowledged. In fact her American 
reputation was coeval with, if it did not precede, that 
which she has won at home. 

"N" early thirteen years ago, I heard a young lady, whose 
pure Greek profile and exquisite voice can never be forgot- 
ten by those who saw and heard her, recite " Count Gis- 
mond.'' The wonderful dramatic truth of this poem — a 
truth which disdains all explanations and accessories^ — 



PERSONAL SKETCHES, 411 

struck me like a new revelation, and I eagerly inquired the 
name of the author. " It is a new English poet, named 
Browning," was the answer. I then remembered having 
seen reviews of his " Bells and Pomegranates," and " The 
Blot on the 'Scutcheon," and lost no time in making myself 
acquainted with everything he liad published at the time. 
In the words of Keats, 

" Then felt I, as some watcher of the skies, 
When a new planet swims into his ken." 

Here was no half-j)oet, piping melodious repetitions on 
his limited reed, but a royal harper, striking double-handed, 
the fullest chords and the extremest notes of the scale of 
human passion. His very faults were the wilful faults of 
conscious power ; his mannerism was no subterfuge to con- 
ceal poverty of thought, but lay in the texture of his mind; 
while in his boldness, his blunt Saxon plainness, and hi? 
faculty of hitting the target of expression full in the white, 
by a single arrowy word, I looked in vain through the 
array of English authors since the Elizabethan age to find 
his equal. Many of his poems reminded me of the Day 
and Night of Michael Angelo — figures of immortal beauty 
struggling into shape through the half-chiselled marble, yet 
grander in their incompleteness than the completed works 
of other sculptors. He tries the sinews of language, it is 
true ; he writes, occasionally, for the evident purpose of 
exhibiting his verbal gymnastics (" Old Pictures in Flo- 
rence," for instance), but he will stand the test which 
proves a true poet — he is best when simplest in his forms. 

It is a curious fact that while the first volume of Alex- 



412 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

ander Smith (a man not to be named on the same day with 
Browning), was greeted with a sale of 20,000 copies the 
first year, the first American edition of Browning's Poems, 
in two volumes, was not exhausted until seven years after 
its publication. One thousand copies in seven years. The 
sale of the English edition, in the same time, was probably 
not much greater. Of Browning's last volume, " Men and 
Women," nearly three thousand copies, I believe, have 
been sold. The same comparison might be made between 
the experiences of Tupper and Tennyson; but we all know 
whose works will be printed and read in the year 1960, 
and whose won't. 

When I was about starting for Europe, on my way to 
the East, in the summer of 1851, a mutual friend offered 
me a letter to Browning, who was, then, with his wife, 
temporarily in London. (After their marriage, which took 
place three or four years previous, they made their home 
in Italy.) Calling, one afternoon in September, at their 
residence in Devonshire street, I was fortunate enough to 
find both at home, though on the very eve of their return 
to Florence. In a small drawing-room on the first floor I 
met Browning, who received me with great cordiality. In 
his lively, cheerful manner, quick voice, and perfect self- 
possession, he made upon me the impression of an Ameri- 
can rather than an Englishman. He was then, I should 
judge, about thirty-seven years of age, but his dark hair 
was already streaked with gray about the temples. His 
complexion was fair, with perhaps the faintest olive tinge, 
eyes large, clear, and gray, nose strong and well cut, mouth 
full and rather broad, and chin pointed, though not pro- 



PERSONAL SBLETCHES. 413 

tninent. His forehead broadened rapidly upwards from 
the outer angle of the eyes, slightly retreating. The strong 
individuahty which marks his poetry was expressed, not 
only in his face and head, but in his whole demeanor. He 
was about the medium height, strong in the shoulders, but 
slender at the waist, and his movements expressed a com- 
bination of vigor and elasticity. 

In the room sat a very large gentleman of between fift} 
and sixty years of age. He must have weighed two hundred 
and fifty pounds, at least ; his large, rosy face, bald head, and 
rotund body would have suggested a prosperous brewer, 
if a livelier intelligence had not twinkled in the bright, 
genial eyes. This unwieldy exterior covered one of the 
warmest and most generous of hearts, and that heavy right 
hand had written one of the finest English anacreontics. 
The man was John Kenyon, who giving up his early am- 
bition to be known as an author, devoted his life to making 
other authors happy. Possessed of ample means, his house 
near London was opened to all who handled pen, brush, or 
chisel, and the noble hospitality which he gave to Art was 
repaid to him by the society and esteem of the artists. He 
was a relative of Mrs. Browning, and at his death, four 
years ago, bequeathed to her a legacy of £10,000. 

Mr. Kenyon had called to say good-by to his friends, 
and presently took his leave. "There," said Browning, 
.when the door had closed after him, " there goes one of 
the most splendid men living — a man so noble in his 
friendships, so lavish in his hospitality, so large-hearted 
and benevolent, that he deserves to be known all over the 
world as 'Kenyon the Magnificent!'" His eulogy was 



114 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

mterruj)ted by the entrance of Mrs. Browning, whom lie 
ran to meet with a boyish Uveliness. She was slight and 
fragile in appearance, with a pale, wasted face, shaded by 
masses of soft chestnut curls which fell on her cheeks, and 
serious eyes of bluish-gray. Her frame seemed to be alto- 
gether disproportionate to her soul. This, at least, was 
the first impression : her personality, frail as it appeared, 
soon exercised its power, and it seemed a natural thing 
that she should have written the " Cry of the Children " 
or the " Lady Geraldine's Courtship.'' T also understood 
how these two poets, so different both intellectually and 
physically, should have found their complements in each 
other. The fortunate balance of their reciprocal qualities 
makes them an exception to the rule that the intermarriage 
of authors is unadvisable, and they appear to be — and are 
— perfectly happy in their wedded life. 

They both expressed great satisfaction with their Ame- 
rican reputation, adding that they had many American 
acquaintances in Florence and Rome. " In fact," said 
Browning, " I verily beUeve that if we were to make out a 
list of our best and dearest friends, we should find more Ame- 
rican than English names." Mrs. Browning was anxious to 
learn something with regard to Art in this country, and the 
patronage extended to it ; and, in the course of the con- 
versation, freely expressed her belief that a Repubhcan 
form of Government is unfavorable to the development of 
the Fme Arts. To this o]3inion I dissented as moderately 
as possible, but I soon had a jDowerful ally in Browning, 
who declared that no artist had ever before been honored 
with a more splendid commission than the State of Vir- 



PERSONAL SKETCHES. 415 

ginia had given to Crawford. A general historical discus- 
sion ensued, which was carried on for some time with the 
greatest spirit, the two poets taking directly opposite 
views. It was good-humoredly closed at last, and I thought 
both of them seemed to enjoy it. There is no fear that two 
such fine intellects will rust : they will keep each other 
bright through the delight of the encounter. 

Their child, a blue-eyed, golden-haired boy of two years 
old, was brought into the room. He stammered Italian 
sentences only: he knew nothing, as yet, of his native 
tongue. He has since exhibited a remarkable genius for 
music and drawing — a fortunate circumstance, for inherited 
genius is always fresher and more vigorous when it seeks a 
new form of expression. 

I feel that I have no right to touch further the person- 
ality of these poets. The public always demands to know, 
and there is no impropriety in its knowing, how its favorite 
author looks and talks, but, while he lives, it has no right 
to pry into the sanctities of his private life. Robert and 
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, however, have thousands of 
unknown friends in this country who will be glad to know 
that their lives are fortunate — that their share o*f the neces- 
sary troubles and trials is not more than the average lot of 
man— or, if greater, is borne mth a cheerfulness and 
courage which hide it from other eyes. Owing to Mrs. 
Browning's feeble health, they have made Italy their per- 
manent home, but they visit England from time to time. 

I met them again in London, in 1856, where I had the 

pleasure of breakfasting at Barry Cornwall's in company 

' with Browning. He was very gay and witty, and as 



416 AT HOME AND ADROAD. 

young and buoyant in aiDpearance as when I first saw him, 
Mrs. Browning was then reading the proofs of " Aurora 
Leigh," which appeared shortly afterwards. 



3. — ^The Writers eoe " Punch." 

Mr. Thackeray, whose connection with The London 
Funch dates back almost, if not quite, to its initial num- 
ber, is in the habit of giving an annual dinner to the 
editors, contributors, and publishers of that periodical. In 
July, 1857, I happened to be in London when the dmner 
for that year came off, and was one of four Americans who 
were guests on that occasion. The other three were \ 
noted sculptor, the architect-in-chief of the Central Park, 
and an, ex-editor of The New York Times. 

In summer, the usual dinner-hour in London is seven, 
although, even then, the shutters must be closed to make 
gas-light effective. Dinner, as is well-known, is a much 
graver affair in England than elsewhere, and daylight is 
destructive to its success. The summer twilight, of the 
North, however, exacts a compromise, which I found very 
agreeable. You drive to your destination in the hazy 
orange splendor of sunset, and are then ushered into the 
soft lamp-light which streams upon the hospitable board. 
The transition of feeling is something like that you expe- 
rience on entering a theatre. The threshold of the build- 
ing is the dividing line between two worlds, and yon sur- 
render yourself willingly to the illusions before you. 



TEES ox AL SKETCHES. - 41 7 

In this case of the " Punch Dinner,* however, there 
were no special illusions to be accepted : everything was 
simple, unconventional, and genial. The guests assembled 
in Mr. Thackeray's drawing-room, most of them wearing 
easy black cravats instead of the stiff white " chokers" 
which English society requires, and marched thence to the 
dining-room ' without any particular order of precedence. 
Bradbury and Evans, whose names are as W' ell known as 
those of the authors, who have grown famous behind 
their imprint, were there : Mark Lemon, the patriarch of 
"Pi^wcAy" Horace Mayhew, " the Greatest Plague of 
Life ;" Tom Taylor, and Shirley Brooks ; and two or three 
other gentlemen whose names are not mentioned in connec- 
tion with their contributions, and whom, therefore, I shall 
not individually designate. The absence of Douglas Jer- 
rold was lamented by all. He was then, I think, at Bou- 
logne, for his health. The following June, on the very day 
I returned to London, the g^y company, whose acquaint- 
ance I was now to make, attended his body to its resting- 
place in Norwood Cemetery. 

" The gay company," I have said : but by no means so 
uproariously gay as the reader may suppose. An author's 
books rarely reflect his external life, and he who most 
provokes your mirth by his writings may chance to have 
the saddest face when you meet him. K I had not 
known this fact previously, I might have been disappointed : 
for not a single joke did I hear during the whole blessed 
evening. There was much cheerful chat, and some amusing 
stories, but no sparkle of wit, no flash of airy banter and 
repartee, such as might have been expected in the atmo- 



418 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

sphere of the Humorous Olympus. The Punch wherewith 
we were regaled was not that swift, warm, inspiring beve- 
rage of the JVoctes Ambrosiance — but cool claret and 
borage — ^in fact, that veritable fragrant cup, without a 
knowledge of which (according to the Hon. Grantley 
Berkley), no man can justly be called a gentleman. 

Our giant host, upon whose head lie the snows of wis- 
dom, not of age, illustrated the grandeur of cheerfulness, 
as he took his place at the head of the table. The eyes 
which can pierce through the triple mail of shams and 
hypocrisies, sheathed their trenchant glances, and beamed 
only a cordial hospitality. At the other end of the table 
sat Mark Lemon, his very opposite in appearance. Mark 
is evidently a Lemon which has not yet been subjected to 
the process of squeezing. In arithmetical formula his 
height being 16, his diameter would be 9. His face is 
broad, mild, and massive, but receives character from a 
heavy moustache. Li a crowd I should have taken him 
for a prosperous Dutch banker. He was formerly a pub- 
lican, but not a sinner, I should judge, for he evidently 
enjoys a good conscience, as well as good health. His 
manners are quiet and gentlemanly, but I suspected the 
presence of a huge cetaceous mirthfulness behind this 
repose. It would take a harpoon, however, to draw it out. 

My vis-d-vis happened to be Tom Taylor, who was de- 
cidedly the liveliest of the company. Tom is a man of 
thirty-eight, or thereabouts, rather tall than short, w^ell- 
built, with a strong, squareish face, black eyes, hair, and 
moustache, and a gay, cheerful, wide-awake air, denoting a 
happy mixture of the imaginative and the practical facul- 



TERSOXAL SKETCUE3. 419 

ties. He was always ready to join iu tlie laugh, aud to 
crown it by provoking another. In fact, ho showed so little 
of English reserve, so much of unembarrassed American 
honhotninie^ that we ought, properly, to call him, "Our 
English Cousin." 

Shirley Brooks, who, in addition to his contributions to 
Punchy is the author of " Aspen Court,'' a successful novel, 
and " The Silver Cord," (now being published in " Once a 
Wee/c,^^) appears to be a year or two younger than Tom 
Taylor — a fair, blond, blue-eyed, plump Englishman, with 
the conventional whiskers and smoothly-shaven lips and 
chin. His face is good-humor itself. He seems to have no 
sharp angles in his nature — does not flash or dazzle — but 
beams mth a steady, cheerful light, receiving as well as 
giving the spirit of the hour. Upon myself, Ht least, he . 
made a most agreeable impression. 

Horace Mayhew, on the other hand, is tall, dark, and 
grave in manner, with aquiline nose, keen eyes, and heavy 
moustache. My place at table did not happen to be near 
him, and he said nothing during the dinner to draw the 
attention of the company upon him. His articles upon 
" London Labor and the London Poor" suggest the charac- 
ter of his personality much better than that admirable 
domestic satire, " The Greatest Plague of Life.'' He w^as 
at that time, I understood, a regular contributor to Punch. 

The publishers, Bradbury & Evans, mnst not be over- 
looked. Their presence at the dinner was an evidence that 
•Campbell's assertion of the natural enmity between pub- 
lishers and authors, w^as founded on some personal spite 
rather than upon actual fact. The reciprocal cordiality 



420 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

which was manifested between them and the other guests, 
was not simulated. They were really, as well as apparent- 
ly, friends. Quiet, unobtrusive, genial, and unmistakeably 
benevolent in character, they increased the harmony of the 
circle. Xo one felt the presence of a chilling material ele- 
ment. A year later, I learned that when Douglas Jerrold 
died, he was £800 in their debt, not a penny of which they 
ever claimed. It is a pity that the honorable treatment 
which they extend to authors should, not have always been 
returned to them. 

The company, as I have already said, was wholly and 
heartily cheerful, but could scarcely be called brilliant. The 
best things, as usual, were said by our host. One occasion 
of this kind, however, is by no means a specimen of all. 
Perhaps the barometer was falling; perhaps two of the 
guests had private worries of some sort ; perhaps no pro- 
per conductor was present, to draw the electricity from 
those charged clouds. It is very unfair to judge any man 
by a single, interview. Therefore, I would not be under- 
stood as saying, that the writers for Punch are not witty 
in society : I simply describe them as I saw them. Words- 
worth, after his wife's death, sat by his lonely fireside, ab- 
sorbed in grief, and paid no attention to a curious visitor 
who accosted him. The latter immediately went home and 
spread the report that Wordsworth was losing his mind. 
There is much bright, keen humor among the London au- 
thors, but I have no doubt the New York Press Club can 
get together as brilliant a party. 

Albert Smith should have been present, but he was not 
able to attend. His wonderful powers as an improvisatore 



PERSONAL SKETCHES. 421 

were so highly extolled, that I regretted having lost the 
opportunity of hearing him. I afterwards visited his As- 
cent of Mount Blanc — a combination of cheap panorama 
and diverting narrative, the success of whiqji depended so 
much on the peculiar humor of the man himself, that he can 
have no successor. It was simply a collection of grotesque 
mcidents of travel, but related with such droll imitations, 
and in such a hearty, off-hand, comic tone, that the audience 
was convulsed with laughter, from beginning to end. The 
very same things, in the mouth of another man, might have 
failed to produce any effect. The mirthful eyes, broad face, 
cheery voice, and stout figure of Albert Smith, were indis- 
pensable parts of the performance. These alone enabled 
him to gain a fortune of £30,000 in a few years. And the 
moral I would deduce therefrom is this : Cheerfulness is a 
Power. 



4. — ^Leigh Hunt. 

I HAD but one interview with Leigh Hunt, yet so satis- 
factory was that interview, in its exhibition of his peculiar 
characteristics, both as poet and man, that I doubt whether 
a month's acquaintance would have done more. It was in 
June, 185T, when I was spending a fortnight in London, 
preparatory to my summer tour in Norway. Mr. Buchanan 
Read, the poet and artist, and Mr. Moran of the American 
Legation, both of whom were friends of Mr. Hunt, kindly 
invited me, with his permission, to spend an evening with 
him. 



422 AT HOME A^D ABKOAD. 

In the long summer twilight we drove out past Ken- 
sington and Brompton, mile after mile, through the endless 
London, until we reached the quiet shades of Hammersmith. 
Here the pulses of the great city are no longer felt : lanes 
of modest cottages and gardens branch ofl' from the main 
thoroughfare, and one can live in as complete a seclusion as 
among the mountains of Cumberland. In one of those neat, 
silent lanes, where grass and paving-stones seem to be striv- 
ing alike for the upper hand, we found the poet's residence 
— a plain two-story brick cottage, of the humblest size, but 
as trim and snug in its outward aspect as it could well be. 

Hunt's wife had been dead for nearly a year, and he was 
living alone, with but a single servant. His pension, and 
the moderate income which he received from his books, 
were sufficient for his necessities, and he was at last enjoy- 
ing a httle pecuniary peace, after a long struggle with those 
material difficulties which he, least of all poets, was fitted tc 
encounter. The servant ushered us through a diminutive 
hall, into a little library, on the threshold of which Mr. Hunt 
met us. The first impression which I received from his 
presence was that of his thorough gentleness and refine- 
ment. He was tall — nearly six feet — but slender, and still 
perfectly erect, in spite of his seventy years. This was all 
that I could notice in the twilight, but I felt the cordial 
pressure of a small, warm, delicate hand, as he welcomed 
me with a manner in w^hich there was something of a fine 
antique courtesy. 

We entered the little room, the servant lighted the lamp, 
and we took seats at the four sides of a table just large 
enough to accommodate us. The walls were covered with 



PEKSOifAL SKKDCHES. 423 

books from floor to ceiling : a single window opened upon 
a few square yards of garden, and there was just sufficient 
room for the servant to pass around, outside of us. No- 
thing could be more cozy and comfortable. The narrow 
quarters disposed each one of us to genial, social converse, 
and we should have felt much less at home in the large and 
lofty hall of an aristocratic mansion. It was a partie car- 
ree^ such as would have rejoiced the heart of Barry Corn- 
wall. 

While our host was filling the tea-cups, I studied his face 
"in the lamp-light. It was a head which Vandyke should 
have painted — a fine oval, with a low, placid brow, kind, 
sweet, serious eyes of bluish-gray, a nose rather long, but 
not prominent, full, delicately-cut, sensitive mouth, and a 
chin short and retreating, but dimpled in the centre. His 
hair, abundant, and pure silver in its hue, was parted in the 
middle, and fell in long Avavos to his shoulders. He was 
dressed in black, with a collar turned down, so as to show 
more of the throat than is "usual in Englishmen. There 
was something saintly in the mildness, serenity, and perfect 
refinement of his features, but they wore an expression of 
habitual cheerfulness and happiness which we rarely find 
on the face of declared saints. His voice was low and 
clear, with an exquisitely distinct articulation. 

Leigh Hunt, in fact, might justly be called, amonw^ poets, 
the Apostle of Cheerfulness. No author ever possessed a 
sunnier philosophy. All the hardships and disappointments 
of his life could not sour or embitter him. He stuck bravely 
to the theory that everything was good and beautiful — that 
there was no inherent evil in the nature of Man, and nc 



424 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

reason why every human being on the face of the earth 
should not be jolly. Not a dark, or morbid, or complain- 
ing line is to be found in all his works. His poems are full 
of breezes, and odors, and sunshine, and laughter. His 
personality conveyed just the same impression, and one of 
his first remarks, on that evening, was an amusing confirm- 
ation of it. *' I have recently lost most of my teeth," said 
he ; " and I am surprised to find that I suffer some incon- 
venience from it. • I always supposed that Nature would 
compensate us for every loss of the kind — either that the 
gums would harden so as to take the place of teeth, or that 
I should lose all desire for food which requires mastication : 
but it does not seem to be so. I am a little disappointed, 
I must confess ; but I shall try the experiment a while 
longer." 

By degrees, he fell into his favorite theme — that of the 
absolute goodness and beauty of everything. I expressed 
a different opinion, mainly for the sake of hearing how he 
would defend himself He skipped over contradictory 
facts and arguments, however, with a cheerful agility which 
showed that he was used to it. " Why," he exclaimed, 
" nobody does evil for the love of it. Evil is simply a bad 
habit, a diseased condition of the mind. Even the man 
who assaults or robs you tries first to excite your anger 
against him, so that his act may seem to himself to be a 
retaliation, rather than an unprovoked wrong. If men 
were properly ecjucated, they would all be good. The bad 
are simply to be pitied, not blamed, because their lives have 
been distorted, and generally by no fault of their own.'' It 
was pleasant to hear such kindly sentiments from an old 



PERSONAL SKETCHES. 425 

man whose life had not been very fortunate, except in its 
associations ; but I candidly confessed that I was unable to 
accept quite so good-natured a philosophy. 

In the course of our conversation, some remark about 
birds led Hunt to take down a volume and read to us the 
song of a nightingale, as put into words by some Italian 
author. He read it in a silvery, chirping tone, running 
over the trills and lingering on the sustained notes in a way 
which reproduced all of the nightingale's song except its 
passion. His reading of poetry was hkewise fine, but cha- 
racteristic : he never could have chanted Milton with the 
grand and solemn monotony of Tennyson's voice. 

Hunt's father was a Philadelphian, and he was related to 
Benjamin West by the mother's side. He was much inte- 
rested in learning that the children of Americans, though 
born abroad, are still American citizens, and that, there- 
fore, he enjoyed the citizenship of both hemispheres. His 
first volume of poems (" Foliage'') was reprinted in Phi- 
ladelphia in 1817. He spoke with great satisfaction of 
his American reputation, his previous idea of the " shop- 
board" having perhaps been modified by the oifer of Tick- 
nor & Fields to pay him a copyright on his works. 

Dickens's character of " Harold Skimpole," in " Bleak 
House," which, by the novelist's confession, was drawn 
from Leigh Hunt, is a glaring caricature. Placing, himself, 
very little value upon money, Hunt could not recognize its 
actual value in the eyes jof others. He borrowed as freely 
as he would have given, had the case been reversed, and he 
was perhaps as careless about paying as he would have 
been about demanding payment. This, of course, was a 



5. — Haks Christian Andeesen. 

Hans Chkistian Andersen is one of the few fortunate 
authors whose works are racy with the peculiar flavor of 
their native soil, yet harmonize with the natural taste of all 
other lands. The naive simplicity of his style, the richness 
and quaintness of his fancy, and a minute delicacy of touch 
m his descriptive passages which reminds one of the pencil 
of Teniers, may be enjoyed by th^se most remote from the 
moors of Jutland and the cliff-bound Baltic isles whence his 
themes are mostly drawn — yet doubly enjoyed by the few 
to whom the originals of his landscapes are familiar. Den- 



426 at home and abroad. 

weakness which we cannot justify; but neither can we jus- 
tify the wanton and distorted exhibition of it by a brother Ij 
author. Hunt was also called selfish. All persons of ex- jj 
quisite and delicate taste are necessarily — perhaps uncon- j 
sciously — selfish in certain ways. Hunt's conduct, however, j] 
during his imprisonment, shows that he knew how to en- 
dure serious loss for the sake of a principle, and that the 
baser forms of selfishness had no place in his nature. His 
kindly philosophy was sincere, and, whatever faults he may 
have had, the example of patience and cheerfulness which 
he gives us far overbalances them. 

The world is full of weepmg and wailing authors, and we 
should be thankful for one who does not swell the utterance 
of misery — who conceals his tears, and shows us a happy 
face wherever we meet him. 



PEIiSOXAL SKETCHES. 427 

mark is rich in the natural elements of poetry. Its history 
is a wonderful panorama of romance, wherein the heroic 
figures stand out sharp and splendid against a background 
of storm. There the pagan chant of the sacred forests of 
Odin mingles with the masses of Christian monks ; the rob- 
ber-knight of the mainland meets the pirate of the sea ; 
barbaric splendor and Titanic wassail alternate with a life 
of savage endurance. The convulsions of the Present may 
create soldiers, priests, statesmen : the Past is tlie mother 
of poets. 

Denmark is not renowned for its scenery, yet its land- 
scapes have a picturesque homeliness — at times a sublime 
monotony — which have more power to attract the Muse 
than the grandest natural features. And here let me remark 
that scenery does not create poets, either. Where is the 
native poet of the Alps ? or the Pyrenees ? or the Bos- 
phorus ? or of Cashmere, the Caucasus, and the Himalaya ? 
The Genius of Song does not alight on the icy peaks, or 
drop into the awful gorges of mountain chains. He hovers 
over the smoke of cities, or seeks the lowly pastoral vales, 
the plains, the heathery moorlands, to pick out his chosen 
children. This is no accidental result : for the Hfe of the 
mountaineer transmits to his children the quick foot, the 
strong nerve, the keen eye, rather than the brooding and 
singing brain. The ploughman's son, the herd-boy of the 
meadows, the nursling of the town, inherit no such overplus 
of animal culture : the struggUng intellect and vague dreams 
of the father or mother blossom naturally, in them, into the 
vision and the faculty divine. People are apt to exclaim 
(because many people either never think, or think in the 



428 AT HOME AND ABROxlD. 

shallowest possible way), on beholding a grand mountain 
landscape : " This is the true home .of poets !" The remark 
simply indicates that the ideality of the spectator is slightly 
excited. The reverse is true. Even Holland has produced 
more poets than Switzerland. 

Denmark, in spite of its northern latitude, seemed to me 
to be admirably adapted for the cradle of authors. It has 
many " waste and solitary places," such as Shelley loved ; 
melancholy sweeps of sandy "dunes," fretted with the 
embroidery of the JSTorth Sea's waves, and rolling moor- 
lands, purple with heather or golden with gorse and broom. 
The highest hill in Jutland is only six hundred feet above 
the sea, yet there are lovely, green, winding valleys, 
threaded by the clearest of streams ; woods of oak, beech, 
birch, and fur ; quaint villages with tiled roofs, and Tartar 
church-spires, and stately country mansions, with the trim 
gardens and formal parks of the past century. On one side 
deep sea-bays run far up among the wooded hills ; on the 
other long friths penetrate the land, and bring the quaint 
coasting-craft into the central landscapes. On the islands, 
high cliffs of chalk, tunnelled and caverned by the waves, 
front the Baltic, and every break in this white wall shows a 
valley sloping up inland, and bright with the greenest pas- 
tures and the fairest groves. " Ah," said a Dane to me, 
" you have walked under the palms of Egypt and the banyan 
trees of India, but you have never yet seen the beech woods 
of Langeland! Nothing in the world is so beautiful. 
There, in June, you may lie on the moss, under a canopy 
of transparent emerald — no leaves are so green as beech- 
leaves in June — and see the blue waters of our I^ortheni 



PERSONAL SKETCHES. 429 

-^gean shimmeriDg below, between the huge boles, white 
as silver ! Then you would understand our Danish poets !" 

My friend was right. He who would truly enjoy Oeh- 
lenschlager and Heiberg and Baggesen and Andersen, must 
know Denmark. The latter, especially, although he has 
travelled much and has occasionally laid the scenes of his 
stories in foreign lands, is Danish, not only in the character 
of his mind, but in his most successful subjects. He 
was born on the island of Ftinen, in 1806, and until 
1833, I believe, resided either there or in Copenhagen, 
without ever having trodden the mainland of Europe. The 
son of a poor shoemaker, a shy and persecuted factory-boy, 
a supernumerary on the stage, a charity scholar, he has 
worked his way steadily upward, through that tireless 
energy which is nothing less than a concentrated enthu- 
siasm, until now he stands acknowledged as the first of 
living Danish authors — in fact, without a rival anywhere in 
his own special province of literature. 

I cannot remember when I first became acquainted with 
Andersen's writings ; but I think it was during my first 
residence in Germany in 1845. Shortly afterwards, Mary 
Howitt's translations of the " Improvisatore^'''* " O. T.," 
and other works appeared. They were reprinted in this 
country, and became immediately popular. His " Story of 
My Life" was published in Boston in 1847. It is a charm- 
ing autobiography, a little petulant, perhaps a little too free 
in the narration of his private hostilities, but as frank and 
picturesque as that of Benvenuto Cellini. I am rather sur- 
prised that it should have passed out of print so soon. 
Like Oehlenschlager Andersen wrote manv of his books in 



430 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

German as well as in Danish, but his " Two Baronesses," 
which he wrote in English, was not so successful. All edu- 
cated Danes speak German, and the affinity between the 
two languages renders a double authorship comparatively 
easy. 

An intimate friend of mine, who was living in Copen- 
hagen, in the year 1852, made the acquaintance of Ander- 
sen. One day, while looking over the poet's library, he 
found a copy of my first book of travel, and called Ander- 
sen's attention to it. The latter remarked that he was 
sorry the author should have died before he had an oppor- 
tunity of writing some additional volumes ! My friend 
undeceived him, of course, and the result was a cordial 
invitation, on his part, for me to visit him at Copenhagen. 
I was then travelling in the East, and received his message 
at Constantinople. It was then in my plan to become 
acquainted with Northern Europe, but many seas and con- 
tinents still lay between the invitation and its fulfilment. 

Time, nor space, however, can cheat a man out of that 
which he is sure he shall have. Six years afterwards, I 
came down from the Arctic Thule to find the first tokens 
of spring on the shores of Zeeland. I had but a day or two 
to spend in Copenhagen, and the sights of that capital — 
Thorwaldsen's Museum, the Rosenberg Palace, and the 
Collection of Northern Antiquities — gave me enough to 
do ; but I set aside a portion of my time for Hans Christian 
Andersen. He was then living in his comfortable bachelor 
rooms, not far from the Kongens Nytorv, where I was 
lodged. On sending a messenger to announce my readi- 
ness to make his acquaintance, according to promise, T 



PERSONAL SKETCHES. 431 

received word that he was just going out to fulfil an 
engagement for the evening, but would call upon me the 
next day. 

I was sitting at my window, the following afternoon, 
busily engaged in sketching the Nytorv, with its bronze 
statue of Christian IV. in the centre, when some one 
knocked at the door. Without waiting for a summons 
the door opened, and a tall, awkward, shambling figure 
entered. The first idea which occurred to me was : " Here 
is a man who is perfectly at home wherever he goes." 
Without a moment's hesitation I sprang up, quite forgetting 
that we had never met before, and cried out, " Andersen ! 
how are you ?" as to an old friend. He greeted me with 
both hands outstretched: "Ah, here you are at last!" 
Then, still holding my hands, he said : " To think that you 
might have passed through Copenhagen, without my know- 
ing it ! How I should have been vexed !" Presently we 
were seated face to face, and in a few minutes I knew his 
features as well as if I had seen them for years. 

He is nearly six feet high, but very loosely put together, 
large-jointed, angular, and ungainly in his movements. 
His head is thrown back in a way common to near-sighted 
persons, and he also has the peculiarity of partly closing 
the eyelids when looking at you. His features are as ill- 
assorted as his limbs: the eyes are gray and projecting; 
the nose large and not quite straight, the mouth broad, 
and tbe teeth irregular. His forehead is high and narrow, 
but well developed at the temples, and his hair thin and 
sandy-gray. Yet the plainness of his face is attractive, 
through its air of frankness, honesty,' and kindness. His 



432 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

manner is as simple and natural as that of a child. He has 
been called egotistical, but his egotism is only a naive and 
unthinking sincerity. He has that winning and confiding 
way which not only encourages, but almost compels con- 
fidence in others. Such a man is not only unembarrassed 
himself, but his presence is an antidote to the embarrass- 
ment of others. This fact accounts for his personal popu- 
larity with all classes of men, from peasants to kings. He 
is a Knight of Dannebrog, with the honorary titles of Pro- 
fessor and Doctor, yet it will never be possible to call him 
anything else than Hans Christian Andersen, 



VII. 

The Confessions of a Medium. 

It is not yet a year since I ceased to act as a Spiritual 
Medium. (I am forced to make use of this title as the 
most intelligible, but I do it with a strong mental protest.) 
At first, I desired only to mthdraw myself quietly from the 
peculiar associations into which I had been thrown by the 
exercise of my faculty, and be content with the simple 
fact of my escape. A man who joins the Dashaways does 
not care to have the circumstance announced in the news- 
papers. " So, he was an habitual drunkard," the public 
would say. I was overcome by a similar reluctance, — nay, 
I might honestly call it shame, — since, although I had at 
intervals officiated as a Medium for a period of seven years, 
my name had been mentioned, incidentally, only once or 
twice in the papers devoted especially to Spiritualism. I 
had no such reputation as that of Hume or Andrew Jack- 
son Davis, which would call "or a public statement of my 
recantation. The result would be, therefore, to give pro- 
minence to a weakness, which, however manfully overcome, 
might be remembered to my future prejudice. 

19 



434 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

I find, however, that the resolution to be silent leaves 
me restless and unsatisfied. And in reflecting calmly — 
objectively, for the first time — upon the experience of 
those seven years, I recognize so many points wherein my. 
case is undoubtedly analogous to that of hundreds of 
others who may be still entangled in the same labyrinth 
whence I have but recently escaped, so clear a solution of 
much that is enigmatical, even to those w^ho reject Spirit- 
ualism, that the impulse to write weighs upon me with the 
pressure of a neglected duty. I cannot longer be silent, 
and, in the conviction that the truth of my statement will 
be evident enough to those most concerned in hearing it, 
without the authority of any name (least of all, of one so 
little known as mine) I now give my confession to the 
world. The names of the individuals whom I shall have 
occasion to introduce are, of course, disguised; but, with 
this exception, the narrative is the plainest possible record 
of my own experience. Many of the incidents which I 
shall be obliged to describe are known only to the actors 
tlierein, who, I feel assured, will never foohslily betray 
themselves. I have therefore no fear that any harm can 
result from my disclosures. 

In order to make my views intelligible to those readers 
who have paid no attention to psychological subjects, I 
must commence a httle in advance of my story. My own 

individual nature is one of those apparently inconsistent 

» 

combinations which are frequently. found in the children 
of parents whose temperaments and mental personalities 
widely differ. This class of natures is much larger than 
would be supposed. Inheriting opposite, even conflicting. 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDlUil. 435 

traits from father and mother, they assume, as either ele- 
ment predominates, diverse characters ; and that which is 
the result of temperament (in fact, congenital inconsistency^ 
is set down by the unthinking world as moral weakness or 
duplicity. Those who have sufficient skill to perceive and 
reconcile — or, at least, govern — the opposing elements are 
few, indeed. Had the power come to me sooner, I should 
have been spared the necessity of making these confessions. 

From one j^arent I inherited an extraordinarily active 
and sensitive imagination, — from the other, a sturdy prac- 
tical sense, a disposition to weigh and balance with calm 
fairness the puzzling questions which life offers to every 
man. These conflicting qualities — as is usual in all similar 
natures — were not developed in equal order of growth. 
The former governed my childhood, iny youth, and enve- 
loped me with spells, which all the force of the latter and 
more slowly ripened faculty was barely sufficient to break. 
Luxuriant weeds and brambles covered the soil which 
should have been ploughed and made to produce honest 
grain. Unfortunately, I had no teacher who was compe- 
tent to understand and direct me. The task was left for 
myself, and I can only wonder, after all that has occurred, 
how it has been possible for me to succeed. Certainly, 
this success has not been due to any vigorous exercise of 
virtue on my part, but solely to the existence of that cool, 
reflective reason which Isij perdtie beneath all the extrava- 
gances of my mind. 

I possessed, even as a child, an unusual share of what 
phrenologists call concentrativeness. The power of ab- 
sorption, of self forgetfulness, was at the same time a sourer 



436 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

of delight and a torment. Lost in some wild dream or 
absurd childisli speculation, my insensibility to outward 
things was chastised as carelessness or a hardened indiffer- 
ence to counsel. With a memory almost marvellous to 
retain those things which appealed to my imagination, I 
blundered painfully over the commonest tasks. While I 
frequently repeated the Sunday hymn, at dinner, I was too 
often unable to give the least report of the sermon. With- 
drawn into my corner of the pew, I gave myself up, after 
the enunciation of the text, to a complete abstraction, 
which took no note of time or place. Fixing my eyes 
upon a knot in one of the panels under the pulpit, I sat 
moveless during the hour and a half which our worthy old 
clergyman required for the expounding of the seven parts 
of his discourse. They could never accuse me of sleep- 
ing, however ; for I rarely even winked. The closing hymn 
recalled me to myself, always with a shock, or sense of 
pain, and sometimes even with a temporary nausea. 

This habit of abstraction — properly a complete passivity 
of the mind — after a while developed another habit, in 
which I now see the root of that peculiar condition which 
made me a Medium. I shall therefore endeavor to describe 
it. I was sitting, one Sunday, just as the minister was 
commencing his sermon, with my eyes carelessly following 
the fingers of my right hands, as I drummed them slowly 
across my knee. Suddenly, the wonder came into my 
mind, — How is it my fingers move ? — What set them 
going ? What is it that stops them ? The mystery of that 
communication between will and muscle, which no physi- 
ologist has ever fathomed, burst uj^on my young intel 



THE COXFESSIOXS OF A MEDIUM. 437 

i lect. I had been conscious of no intention of thus druin- 
' ming my fingers; the'y were in motion when I first noticed 
them : they were certainly a part of myself, yet they acted 
without my knowledge or design! My left hand was 
quiet ; why did its fingers not move also ? Following these 
reflections came a dreadful fear, as I remembered Jane, 
t^e blacksmith's daughter, whose elbows and shoulders 
sometimes jerked in such a way as to make all the other 
scholars laugh, although we were sorry for the poor girl, 
who cried bitterly over her unfortunate, ungovernable 
limbs. I was comforted, however, on finding that I could 
control the motion of my fingers at pleasure ; but my ima- 
gination was too active to stop there. What if I should 
forget how to direct my hands ? What if they should 
refuse to obey me ? What if my knees, which were just 
as still as the hymn-books in the rack before me, should 
cease to bend, and I should sit there for ever ? These very 
questions seemed to produce a temj^orary paralysis of the 
will. As my right hand lay quietly on my knee, and I 
asked myself, with a stupid wonder, "Now, can I move 
it ?" it lay as still as before. I had only questioned, not 
willed. " Xo, I cannot move it," I said, in real doubt. I 
was conscious of a blind sense of exertion, wherein there 
was yet no proper exertion, but which seemed to exhaust 
me. Fascinated by this new mystery, I contemj^lated my 
hand as something apart from myself, — something subor- 
dinate to, but not identical with, me. The rising of the 
congregation for the hymn broke the spell, like the snap- 
ping of a thread. 

The reader will readily understand that I carried these 



-'•^'3 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

experiences much farther. I gradually learned to suspend 
(perhaps in imagination only, but therefore none the less 
really) the action of my will upon the muscles of the arms 
and legs ; and I did it with the greater impunity, from 
kn owning that the stir consequent upon the conclusion of 
the services would bring me to myself. In proportion as 
the will became passive, the activity of my imagination w^as 
increased, and I experienced a new and strange delight in 
watching the play of fantasies which appeared to come and 
go independently of myself. There was still a dim con- 
sciousness of outward things mingled with my condition; 
I was not beyond the recall of my senses. But one day, I 
remember, as I sat motionless as a statue, having ceased 
any longer to attempt to control my dead limbs, more than 
usually passive, a w^hite, shining mist gradually stole around 
me ; my eyes finally ceased to take cognizance of objects; 
a low, musical humming sounded in my ears, and those 
creatures of the imagination which had hitherto crossed my 
brain as thoughts now spoke to me as audible voices. If 
there is any happy delirium in the first stages of intoxica- 
tion, (of which, thank Heaven, I have no experience,) it 
must be a sensation very much like that which I felt. The 
death of external and the birth of internal consciousness 
overwhelmed my childish soul with a dumb, ignorant ecs- 
tasy, like that which savages feel on first hearing the 
magic of music. 

How long I remained thus I know not. I was aroused 
by feeling myself violently shaken. " John !" exclaimed 
my mother, who had grasped my arm with a determined 
hand, — " bless the boy I what ails him? Why, his face is 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 439 

as white as a sheet !" Slowly I recovered my conscious- 
ness, saw the church and the departing congregation, and 
mechanically followed my parents. I could give no expla- 
nation of what had happened, except to say that I had 
fallen asleep. As I ate my dinner with a good appetite, 
my mother's fears were quieted. I was left at home the 
following Sunday, and afterwards only ventured to indulge 
sparingly in the exercise of my newly discovered faculty. 
My mother, I was conscious, took more note of my pre- 
sence than formerly, and I feared a repetition of the same 
catastrophe. As I grew older and my mind became inter- 
ested in a wider range of themes, I finally lost the habit, 
which I classed among the many follies of childhood. 

I retained, nevertheless, and still retain, something of 
that subtile instinct which mocks and yet surpasses reason. 
My feelings with regard to the persons whom I met Avere 
quite independent of their behavior towards me, or the 
estimation in which they were held by the world. Things 
which puzzled my brain in waking hours were made clear 
to me in sleep, and I frequently felt myself blindly impelled 
to do or to avoid doing certain things. The members of 
my family, who found it impossible to understand my mo- 
tives of action,-^because, in fact, there were no motives^ — ' 
complacently solved the difficulty by calling me " queer." 
I presume there are few persons who are not occasionally 
visited by the instinct, or impulse, or faculty, or whatever 
it may be called, to which I refer. I possessed it in a more 
than ordinary degree, and was generally able to distinguish 
between its suggestions and the mere humors of my imagi- 
nation. It is scarcely necessarv to say that I assume tht' 



440 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

existence of such a power, at the outset. I recognize it as 
a normal faculty of the human mind, — not therefore uni- 
versal, any more than the genius which makes a poet, a 
painter, or a composer. 

My education was neither general nor thorough ; hence 
I groped darkly with the psychological questions which 
were presented to me. Tormented by those doubts which 
at some period of life assail the soul of every thinking man, 
I was ready to grasp at any solution which offered, without 
very carefully testing its character. I eagerly accepted the 
theory of Animal Magnetism, which, so far as it went, was 
satisfactory ; but it only illustrated the powers and relations 
of the soul in its present state of existence ; it threw no 
light upon that future which I w^as not willing to take upon 
faith alone. Though sensible to mesmeric influences, I was 
not willing that my spiritual nature should be. the instru- 
ment of another's will, — that a human being, like myself, 
should become possessed of all my secrets and sanctities, 
touching the keys of every passion with his unhallowed 
fingers. In the phenomena of clairvoyance I saw only 
other and more subtile manifestations of the power which 
I knew to exist in my own mind. Hence, I soon grew 
weary of prosecuting inquiries which, at best, would fall 
short of solving my own great and painful doubt, — Does 
the human soul continue to exist after death ? That it 
could take cognizance of things beyond the re?ich of the five 
senses, I was already assured. This, however, might be a 
sixth sense, no less material and perishable in its character 
than the others. My brain, as yet, was too young and im- 
mature to follow the thread of that lofty spiritual logic in 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 441 

the light of which such doubts melt away like mists of the 
night. Thus, uneasy because undeveloped, erring because 
I had never know^n the necessary guidance, seeking, but 
almost despairing of enlightenment, I was a fit subject for 
any spiritual ej)idemic which seemed to offer me a cure for 
worse maladies. 

At this juncture occurred the phenomena known as the 
" Rochester Knockings." (My home, let me say, is in a 
small town not fir from N"ew York.) I shared in the gene- 
ral interest aroused by the marvellous stories, which, being 
followed by the no less extraordinary display of some un- 
known agency at N'orwalk, Connecticut, excited me to such 
a degree that I was half-converted to the new faith before I 
had witnessed any spiritual manifestation. Soon after the 
arrival of the Misses Fox in 'New York I visited them in 
their rooms at the Howard House. Impressed by their 
quiet, natural demeanor, the absence of anything savoring 
of jugglery, and the peculiar character of the raps and 
movements of the table, I asked my questions and applied 
my tests, in a passive, if not a believing frame of mind. In 
fact, I had not long been seated, before the noises became 
loud and frequent. 

" The spirits like to communicate with you," said Mrs. 
Fish : " you seem to be nearer to them than most people.'' 

I summoned, in succession, the spirits of my mother, a 
younger brother, and a cousin to whom I had been much 
attached in boyhood, and obtained correct answers to all 
my questions. I did not then remark, what has since oc- 
curred to me, that these questions concerned things which 
f knew, and that the answers to them were distinctly ira 

19- 



442 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

pressed on my mind at the time. Tiie result of one of my 
tests made a very deep impression upon me. Having men- 
tally selected a friend whom I had met in the train that 
morning, I asked, — " Will the spirit whose name is now in 
my mind communicate with me ?" To this came the an- 
swer, slowly rapped out, on calling over the alphabet, — 
'-^ He is living!'''' 

I returned home, very much puzzled. Precisely those 
features of the exhibition (let me call it such) which repulse 
others attracted me. The searching day-light, the plain, 
matter-of-fact character of the manifestations, the absence 
of all solemnity and mystery, impressed me favorably to- 
wards the S]3iritual theory. If disembodied souls, I said, 
really exist and can communicate with those in the flesh, 
why should they choose moonlight or darkness, graveyards 
or lonely bed-chambers, for their visitations ? What is to 
hinder them from speaking at times and in places where 
the senses of men are fully awake and alert, rather than 
when they are liable to be the dupes of the imagination ? 
In such reflections as these I was the unconscious dupe of 
my own imagination, while supposing myself thoroughly 
impartial and critical. 

Soon after this, circles began to be formed in my native 
town, for the purpose of table-moving. A number of per- 
sons met, secretly at first, — for as yet there were no avowed 
converts, — and quite as much for sport as for serious inves- 
tigation. The first evening there was no satisfactory mani- 
fevStation. The table moved a little, it is true, but each one 
laughingly accused his neighbors of employing some mus- 
cular force : all isolated attempts were vain. I was con- 



THE COXFESSIOXS OF A MEDIUM. 443 

scions, nevertheless, of a cnrions sensation of nnnibness in the 
arms, which recalled to mind my forgotten experiments in 
church. Xo rappings were heard, and some of the partici- 
l^ants did not scruple to pronounce the whole thing a delusion. 
A few evenings after this we met again. Those who 
were most incredulous happened to be absent, while, acci- 
dentally, their places were filled by persons whose tempera- 
ments disposed them to a passive seriousness. Among 
these was a girl of sixteen. Miss i^bby Fetters, a pale, deli- 
cate creature, with blond hair and light-blue eyes. Chance 
placed her next to me, in forming the ring, and her right 
hand lay lightly upon my left. We stood around a heavy 
circular dining-table. A complete silence was preserved, 
and all minds gradually sank into a quiet, passive expect- 
ancy. In about ten minutes I began to feel, or to imagine 
that I felt, a stream of light — if light w^ere a palpable sub- 
stance — a something far finer and more subtile than an 
electric current, passing from the hand of Miss Fetters 
through my own into the table. Presently the great 
wooden mass began to move — stopped — moved again — 
turned in a circle, we following, withoat changing the posi- 
tion of our hands — and finally began to rock from side to 
side, with increasing violence. Some of the circle were 
thrown off by the movements; others withdrew, their 
hands in affright ; and but four, among whom were Miss 
Fetters and myself, retained their hold. My outward 
consciousness appeared to be somewhat benumbed, as if 
by some present fascination or approaching trance, but I 
retained curiosity enough to look at my companion. Her 
eyes, sparkling with a strange, steady light, were fixed upon 



444 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the table ; her breath came quick and short, and her cheek 
had lost every trace of color. Suddenly, as if by a spas- 
modic effort, she removed her hands ; I did the same, and 
the table stopped. She threw herself into a seat, as if 
exhausted, yet, during the whole time, not a muscle of the 
hand which lay upon mine had stirred. I solemnly declare 
that my own hands had been equally passive, yet I expe- 
rienced the same feeling of fatigue — not muscular fatigue, 
•but a sense of deadness^ as if every drop of nervous energy 
had been suddenly taken from me. 

Further experiments, the same evening, show^ed that we 
two, either together or alone, were able to produce the 
same phenomena without the assistance of the others pre- 
sent. We did not succeed, however, in obtaining any 
answers to our questions, nor were any of us impressed by 
the idea that the sjnrits of the dead were among us. In 
fact, these table-movings would not, of themselves, sug- 
gest the idea of a spiritual manifestation. " The table is 
bewitched," said Thompson, a hard-headed young fellow, 
without a particle of imagination ; and this was really the 
first impression of all : some unknown force, latent in the 
dead matter, had been called into action. Still, this con- 
clusion was so strange, so incredible, that the agency of 
supernatural intelligences finally presented itself to my 
mind as the readiest solution. 

It was not long before ^ve obtained raj^pings, and were 
enabled to repeat all the experiments which I had tried 
during my visit to the Fox family. The spirits of our de- 
ceased relatives and friends announced themselves, and 
generally gave a correct account of their earthly lives. 1 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 445 

must confess, however, that, whenever we attempted to 
pry into the future, we usually received answers as ambi- 
guous as those of the Grecian oracles, or j^redictions which 
failed to be realized. Violent knocks or other unruly 
demonstrations would sometimes interrupt an intelligent 
communication which promised us some light on the other 
life : these, we were told, were occasioned by evil or mis- 
chievous spirits, whose delight it was to create disturb- 
ances. They never occurred, I now remember, except when 
Miss Fetters was present. At the time, we were too much 
absorbed in our researches to notice the fact. 

The reader will perceive, from what he knows of my pre- 
vious mental state, that it was not difficult for me to accept 
the theories of the Spiritualists. Here was an evidence of 
the immortality of the soul — nay, more, of its continued 
individuality through endless future existences. The idea 
of my individuality being lost had been to me the same 
thing as complete annihilation. The spirits themselves 
informed us that they had come to teach these truths. The 
simple, ignorant faith of the Past, they said, was worn out ; 
with the development of science, the mind of man had 
become skeptical ; the ancient fountains no longer sufficed 
for his thirst ; each new era required a new revelation ; in all 
former ages there had been single minds pure enough and 
advanced enough to communicate with the dead and be the 
mediums of their messages to men, but now the time had 
come when the knowledge of this intercourse must be 
declared unto all ; in its light the mysteries of the Past 
became clear ; in the wisdom thus imparted, that happy 
Fature which seems possible to every ardent and generous 



446 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

heart would be secured. I was not troubled by the fact 
that the messages which proclaimed these things were often 
incorrectly spelt, that the grammar Y/as bad and the lan- 
guage far from elegant. I did not reflect that these new 
and sublime truths had formerly passed through my own 
brain as the dreams of a wandering imagination. Like that 
American philosopher who looks upon one of his own neo- 
phytes as a man of great and profound mind because the 
latter carefully remembers and repeats to him his own care- 
lessly uttered wisdom, I saw in these misty and disjointed 
reflections of my own thoughts the precious revelation of 
dejjarted and purified spirits. 

How a passion for the unknown and unattainable takes 
hold of men is illustrated by the search for the universal 
solvent, by the mysteries of the Rosicrucians, by the patron- 
age of fortune-tellers, even. "Wholly absorbed in spiritual 
researches — having, in fact, no vital interest in anything 
else — I soon developed into what is called a Medium. I 
discovered, at the outset, that the peculiar condition to be 
attained before the tables would besjin to move could be 
produced at will.* I also found that the ^^assive state into 

* In attempting to describe my own sensations, I labor under the dis- 
advantage of speaking mostly to those who have never experienced any- 
thing of the kind. Hence, what would be perfectly clear to myself, and 
to those who have passed through a similar experience, may be unintelli- 
gible' to the former class. The Spiritualists excuse the crudities which 
their Plato, St. Paul, and Shakspeare utter, by ascribing them to the im- 
perfection of human language ; and I may claim the same allowance in 
setting forth mental conditions of which the mind itself can grasp no com- 
plete idea, seeing that its most important faculties are paralysed during the 
existence of those conditions. 



THE coxfessio:ns of a medium. 447 

which I naturally fell had a tendency to produce that trance 
or suspension of the will which I had discovered when a 
boy. External consciousness, however, did not wholly 
depart. I saw the circle of inquirers around me, but dimly, 
and as phantoms — while the impressions which passed over 
my brain seemed to wear visible forms and to speak with 
audible voices. 

I did not doubt, at the time, that spirits visited me, and 
that they made use of my body to communicate with those 
who could hear them in no other way. Beside the plea- 
sant intoxication of the semi-trance, I felt a rare joy in 
the knowledge that I was elected above other men to be 
their interpreter. Let me endeavor to describe the nature 
of this possession. Sometimes, even before a spirit would 
be called for, the figure of the person, as it existed in the 
mind of the inquirer, would suddenly present itself to me 
— not to my outward senses, but to my interior, instinctive 
knowledge. If the recollection of the other embraced also 
the voice, I heard the voice in the same manner, and 
tmconsciously imitated it. The answers to the questions I 
knew by the same mstinct, as soon as the questions were 
spoken. If the question w^as vague, asked for information 
rather than confirmation^ either no answer came, or there 
was an impression of a wisli of what the answer might be, 
or, at times, some strange involuntary sentence sprang 
to my lips. When I wrote, my hand appeared to move of 
itself; yet the words it wrote invariably passed through 
my mind. Even when blindfolded, there was no difference 
in its performance. The same powers developed themselves 
in a still greater degree in Miss Fetters. The spirits which 



448 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

spoke most readily through her were those of men, even 
coarse and rude characters, which came unsummoned. Two 
or three of the other members of our circle were able to 
produce motions in the table ; they could even feel, as they 
asserted, the touch of spiritual hands ; but, however much 
they desired it, they were never personally possessed as we, 
and therefore could not properly be called Mediums. 

These investigations were not regularly carried on. 
Occasionally the interest of the circle flagged, until it was 
renewed by the visit of some apostle of the new faith, 
usually accompanied by a " Preaching Medium." Among 
those whose presence especially conduced to keep alive the 
flame of spiritual inquiry was a gentleman named Stilton, 
the editor of a small monthly periodical entitled " Revela- 
tions from the Interior." Without being himself a Medium, 
he was nevertheless thoroughly conversant with the various 
l^henomena of Spiritualism, and both spoke and wrote in 
the dialect which its followers adopted. He was a man of 
varied, but not profound learning, an active intellect, 
giving and receiving impressions with equal facility, and 
with an unusual combination of concentrativeness and 
versatility in his nature. A certain inspiration was con- 
nected with his presence. His personality overflowed upon 
and influenced others. " My mind is not sufficiently sub- 
missive," he would say, " to receive impressions from the 
spirits, but my atmosphere attracts them, and encourages 
them to speak.'' He was a stout, strongly built man, with 
coarse black hair, gray eyes, large animal mouth, square 
jaws, and short, thick neck. Had his hair been cropped 
close, he would have looked very much hke a prize-fighter : 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 449 

but he wore it long, parted in the middle, and as meek in 
expression as its stiff waves would allow. 

Stilton soon became the controlling spirit of our circle. 
His presence really seemed, as he said, to encourage the 
spirits. Never before had the manifestations been so abun- 
dant or so surprising. Miss Fetters, especially, astonished 
us by the vigor of her possessions. Not only Samson and 
Peter the Great, but Gibbs the Pirate, Black Hawk, and 
Joe Manton, who had died the pr^ious year in a fit of 
delirium-tremens, prophesied, strode, swore, and smashed 
things m turn, by means of her frail little body. As Cribb, 
a noted pugilist of the last century, she floored an incau- 
tious spectator, giving him a black eye which he wore for 
a fortnight afterwards. Singularly enough, my visitors 
were of the opposite cast. Hypatia, Petrarch, Mary Mag- 
dalen, Abelard, and, oftenest of all, Shelley, proclaimed 
mystic truths fi-om my lips. They usually spoke in inspired 
monologues, without announcing themselves beforehand, 
and often without giving any clue to their personality. A 
practised stenographer, engaged by Mr. Stilton, took down 
many of these communications as they wxre spoken, and 
they were afterwards published in the " Revelations." It 
was also remarked, that, while Miss Fetters employed vio- 
lent gestures, and seemed to possess a superhuman strength, 
I, on the contrary, sat motionless, pale, and with little sign 
of life except in my voice, w^hich, though low, was clear 
and dramatic in its modulations. Stilton explained this 
difference without hesitation. " Miss Abby," he said, 
" possesses soul-matter of a texture to which the souls of 
these strong men naturally adhere. Tn the spirit-land the 



450 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 

superfluities repel each other ; the individual souls seek to 
remedy their imperfections : in the union of opposites only 
is to be found the great harmonia of life. You, John, 
move upon another plane ; through what in you is unde- 
veloped, these developed spirits are attracted." 

For two or three years, I must admit, my life was a very 
happy one. Not only were those occasional trances an 
intoxication, nay, a coveted indulgence, but they cast a 
consecration over my^ife. My restored faith rested on the 
sure evidence of my own experience ; my new creed con- 
tained no harsh or repulsive feature ; I heard the same 
noble sentiments which I uttered in such moments repeated 
by my associates in the faith, and I devoutly believed that 
a complete regeneration of the human race was at hand. 
Nevertheless, it struck me sometimes as singular that many 
of the Mediums whom I met — men and women chosen by 
spiritual hands to the same high office — excited in my mind 
that instinct of repulsion on which I had learned to rely as 
a sufficient reason for avoiding certain persons. Far as it 
would have been from my mind, at that time, to question 
the manifestations which accomj)anied them, I could not 
smother my mistrust of their characters. Miss Fetters, 
whom I so frequently met, was one of the most disagree- 
able. Her cold, thin lips, pale eyes, and lean figure gave 
me a singular impression of voracious hunger. Her pre- 
sence was often announced to me by a chill shudder, before 
I saw her. Centuries ago one of her ancestors must have 
been a ghoul or vampire. The trance of possession seemed, 
with her, to be a form of dissipation, in which she indulged 
as she might have catered for a baser appetite. The new 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 461 

religion was nothing to her ; I believe she valued it only on 
account of the importance she obtained among its follow- 
ers. Her father, a vain, weak-minded man, w^ho kept a 
grocery in the town, was himself a convert. 

Stilton had an answer for every doubt. No matter how 
tangled a labyrinth might be exhibited to him, he walked 
straight through it. 

" How is it," I asked him, " that so many of my fellow- 
mediums inspire me Avith an instinctive dislike and mis- 
trust ? " 

" By mistrust you mean dislike," he answered ; " since 
you know of no reason to doubt their characters. The 
elements of soul-matter are differently combined in different 
individuals, and there are affinities and repulsions, just as 
there are in the chemical elements. Your feeling is che- 
mical, not moral. A want of affinity does not necessarily 
imply an existing evil in the other party. In the present 
ignorance of the world, our true affinities can only be 
imperfectly felt and indulged ; and the entire freedom 
which we shall obtain in this respect is the greatest happi- 
ness of the spirit-life." 

Another time I asked — 

" How is it that the spirits of great authors speak so 
tamely to us ? Shakspeare, last night, wrote a passage 
which he would have been heartily ashamed of, as a living 
man. We' know that a spirit spoke, calling himself Shak- 
speare ; but, judging from his communication, it could not 
have been he." 

" It probably was not," said Mr. Stilton. " I am con- 
vinced that all malicious spirits are at work to interrupt 



452 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the communications from the higher spheres. We were 
thus deceived by one professing to be Benjamin Franklin, 
who drew for us the plan of a machine for splitting shin- 
gles, which we had fabricated and patented at considerable 
expense. On trial, however, it proved to be a miserable 
failure, a complete mockery. When the spirit was again 
summoned he refused to speak, but shook the table to 
express his malicious laughter, went off, and has never 
since returned. My friend, we know but the alphabet of 
Spiritualism, the mere A B C ; we can no more expect to 
master the immortal language in a day than a child to read 
Plato after learning his letters." 

Many of those who had been interested in the usual 
phenomena gradually droj)ped off, tired, and perhaps a 
little ashamed, in the reaction following their excitement ; 
but there were continual accessions to our ranks, and we 
formed, at last, a distinct clan or community. Indeed, the 
number of secret believers in Spiritualism would never be 
suspected by the uninitiated. In the sect, however, as in 
Masonry, and the Catholic Church, there are circles within 
circles — concentric rings, whence you can look outwards^ 
but not inwards, and where he alone who stands at the 
centre is able to perceive everything. Such an inner circle 
was at last formed in our town. Its object, according to 
Stilton, with whom the plan originated, was to obtain a 
purer spiritual atmosphere, by the exclusion of all but 
Mediums, and those non-mediumistic believers in Avhose 
presence the spirits felt at ease, and thus invite communi- 
cations from the farther and purer spheres. 

In fact, the result seemed to justify the plan. The cha- 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A IMEDIUM. 453 

racter of the trance, as I had frequently observed, is vitiated 
by the consciousness that disbelievers are present. The 
more perfect the atmosphere of credulity, the more satis- 
factory the manifestations. The expectant company, the 
dim light, the conviction that a wonderful revelation was 
about to dawn upon us, excited my imagination, and my 
trance was really a sort of delirium, in which I spoke with 
a passion and an eloquence I had never before exhibited. 
The fear,- which had previously haunted me, at times, of 
giving my brain and tongue into the control of an unknown 
power, was forgotten ; yet, more than ever, I was conscious 
of some strong controlling influence, and experienced a 
reckless pleasure in permitting myself to be governed by it. 
*' Prepare," I concluded, (I quote from the report in the 
" Revelations,") " prepare, sons of men, for the dawning 
day ! Prepare for the second and perfect regeneration of 
man ! For the prison-chambers have been broken into, and 
the light from the interior shall illuminate the external! 
Ye shall enjoy spiritual and passional freedom ; your guides 
shall no longer be the despotism of ignorant laws, nor the 
whip of an imaginary conscience, — but the natural impulses 
of your nature, which are the melody of Life, and the natu- 
ral affinities, which are its harmony ! The reflections from 
the upper spheres shall irradiate the lower, and Death is 
the triumphal arch through which we pass from glory to 
glory !" 

I have here paused, deliberatmg whether I should 

proceed farther in my narrative. But no ; if any good is 
to be accomplished by these confessions, the reader must 
walk with me through the dark labyrinth which follows 



454 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

He must walk over what may be considered delicate ground, 
but he shall not be harmed. One feature of the trance 
condition is too remarkable, too important in its conse- 
quences to be overlooked. It is a feature of which many 
Mediums are undoubtedly ignorant, the existence of 
which is not even suspected by thousands of honest 
Spiritualists. 

Let me again anticipate the regular course of .my narra- 
tive, and explain. A suspension of the Will, when indulged 
in for any length of time, produces a suspension of that 
inward consciousness of good and evil which we call Con- 
science, and which can be actively exercised only through 
the medium of the Will. The mental faculties and the 
moral perceptions lie down together in the same passive 
sleep. The subject is, therefore, equally liable to receive 
impressions from the minds of others, and from their pas- 
sions and lusts. Besides this, the germs of all good and of 
all evil are implanted in the nature of every human being ; 
and even when some appetite is buried in a crypt so deep 
that its existence is forgotten, let the warder be removed, 
and it will gradually work its way to the light. Persons 
in the receptive condition which belongs to the trance may 
be surrounded by honest and pure-minded individuals, and 
receive no harmful impressions; they may even, if of a 
healthy spiritual temperament, resist for a time the aggres- 
sions of evil influences ; but the final danger is always the 
same. The state of the Medium, therefore, may be described 
as one in which the Will is passive, the Conscience passive, 
the outward senses partially (sometimes wholly) suspended, 
the mind helplessly subject to the operations of other minds. 



THE CONFESSIOXS OF A. MEDIUM. 4o5 

and the passions and desires released from all restraining 
influences.* I make the statement boldly, after long and 
careful reflection, and severe self-examination. 

As I said before, I did not entirely lose my external con- 
sciousness, although it was very dim and dream-like. On 
returning to the natural state, my redollection of what had 
occurred during the trance became equally dim ; but I 
retained a general impression of the character of the pos- 
session. I knew that some foreign influence — the spirit of 
a dead poet, or hero, or saint, I then believed — governed 
me for the time ; that I gave utterance to thoughts unfa- 
miliar to my mind in its conscious state ; and that my own 
individuality was lost, or so disguised that I could no longer 
recognize it. This very circumstance made the trance an 
indulgence, a spiritual intoxication, no less fascinating than 
that of the bodj'^, although accompanied by a similar reac- 
tion. Yet, behind all, dimly evident to me, there was an 
element of terror. There were times when, back of the 
influences which spoke with my voice, rose another — a vast, 
overwhelming, threatening power, the nature of w^iich I 
could not grasp, but which I knew was evil. Even when 
in my natural state, fistening to the harsh utterances of 
Miss Fetters or the lofty spiritual philosophy of Mr. Stilton, 
I have felt for a single second, the touch of an icy wind, 
accompanied by a sensation of unutterable dread. 

Our secret circle had not held many sessions before a 

* The recent experiments in Hyimotism, in France, show that a very 
similar psychological condition accompanies the trance produced by gazing 
fixedly upon a bright object held near the eyes. I have no doubt, in fact, 
that it belongs to every abnorm?! state of the mind. 



456 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

remarkable change took place in the character of the reve- 
lations. Mr. Stilton ceased to report them for his paper. 

" We are on the threshold at last," said he ; " the secrets 
of the ages lie beyond. The hands of spirits are now lifting 
the veil, fold by fold. Let us not be startled by what we 
hear : let us show that our eyes can bear the light — that 
we are competent to receive the wisdom of the higher 
sj)heres, and live according to it." 

Miss Fetters was more than ever possessed by the spirit 
of Joe Manton, whose allowance of grog having been cut 
off too suddenly by his death, he was continually clamoring 
for a dram. " I tell you," yelled he, or rather she, " I 
won't stand sich meanness. I ha'n't come all the way here 
for nothin'. I'll knock Erasmus all to thunder, if you go 
for to turn me out dry, and let him come in." 

Mr. Stilton thereupon handed him, or her, a tumbler 
half-full of brandy, which she gulped down at a single 
swallow. Joe Manton presently retired to make room for 
Erasmus, who spoke for some time in Latin, or what 
appeared to be Latin. 'None of us could make much of it ; 
but Mr. Stilton declared that the Latin pronunciation of 
Erasmus was probably different from ours, or that he might 
have learned the true Roman accent from Cicero and Seneca, 
with whom, doubtless, he was now on intimate terms. As 
Erasmus generally concluded by throwing his arms, or 
rather the arms of Miss Fetters, around the neck of Mr. 
Stilton — his spirit fraternizing, apparently, with the spirit 
of the latter — we greatly regretted that his communications 
were unintelligible, on account of the superior wisdom 
which they might be supposed to contain. 



THE COXTESSIOXS OF A MEDIUM. 457 

T confess, I cannot recall the part I played in what would 
have been a pitiable farce, if it had not been so terribly- 
tragical, without a feeling of utter shame. JSTothing but 
my profound sympathy for the thousands and tens of thou- 
sands who are stUl subject to the same delusion could com- 
pel me to such a sacrifice of pride. Curiously enough (as 
I thought then^ but not now), the enunciation of sentiments 
opposed to my moral sense — the abolition, in fact, of all 
moral restraint — came from my lips, while the actions of 
Miss Fetters hinted at their practical application. Upon 
the ground that the interests of the soul were paramount to 
all human laws and customs, I declared — or rather, my 
voice declared — that self-denial was a fatal error, to which 
half the misery of mankind could be traced ; that the pas- 
sions, held as slaves, exhibited only the brutish nature of 
slaves, and would be exalted and glorified by entire free- 
dom ; and that our sole guidance ought to oome from the 
voices of the spirits who communicated with us, instead of 
the imperfect laws constructed by our benighted fellow-men. 
How clear and logical, how lofty, these doctrines seemed ! 
If, at times, something in their nature repelled me, I simply 
attributed it to the fact that I was still but a neophyte in 
the Spiritual Philosophy, and incapable of perceiving the 
truth with entire clearness. 

Mr. Stilton had a ^vife, — one of those meek, amiable, 
simple-hearted women whose individuality seems to be 
completely absorbed into that of their husbands. When 
such women are w^edded to frank, tender, protecting men, 
their lives are truly blessed ; but they are willing slaves to 
the domestic tyrant. They bear uncomplainingly, — many 

20 



458 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

of them even without a thought of complaint, — and die at 
last with their hearts full of love' for the brutes who have 
trampled upon them. Mrs. Stilton was perhaps forty years 
of age, of middle height, moderately plump in person, with 
light-brown hair, soft, inexpressive gray eyes, and a meek, 
helpless, imploring mouth. Her voice was mild and plain- 
tive, and its accents of anger (if she ever gave utterance to 
such) could not have been distinguished from those of grief. 
She did not often attend our sessions, and it was evident, 
that, while she endeavored to comprehend the revelations, 
in order to please her husband, their import was very far 
beyond her comprehension. She was now and then a little 
frightened at utterances which no doubt sounded lewd or 
profane to her ears ; but ailer a glance at Mr. Stilton's face, 
and finding that it betrayed neither horror nor surprise, 
would persuade herself that everything must be right. 

" Are you sure," she once timidly whispered to me, " are 

you very sure, Mr. , that there is no danger of being 

led astray ? It seems strange to me ; but perhaps I don't 
understand it.'' 

Her question was so indefinite, that I found it difficult 
to answer. Stilton, however, seeing me engaged in endea- 
voring to make clear to her the glories of the new truth, 
exclaimed, — 

"That's right, John ! Your spiritual plane slants through 
many spheres, and has points of contact with a great vari- 
ety of souls. I hope my wife will be able to see the light 
through you, since I appear to be too opaque for her to 
receive it from me." 

"Oh, Abijah!" said the poor woman, "you know it is 



THE CONPESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 459 

my fault. I try to follow, and I hope I have faith, though 
I don't see everything as clearly as you do." 

I began also to have my own doubts, as I perceived that 
an " affinity " was gradually being developed between Stil- 
ton and Miss Fetters. She was more and more frequently 
possessed by the spirit of Erasmus, whose salutations, on 
meeting and parting with his brother-philosopher, were too 
enthusiastic for merely masculine love. But, whenever I 
hinted at the possibility of mistaking the impulses of the 
soul, or at evil resulting from a too sudden and universal 
liberation of the passions, Stilton always silenced me with 
his inevitable logic. Having once accepted the premises, 
I could not avoid the conclusions. 

" When our natures are in harinony with spirit-matter 
throughout the spheres,'' he would say, " our impulses 
will alwa)"S be in accordance. Or, if there should be any 
temporary disturbance, arising from our necessary inter- 
course with the gross, blinded multitude, we can always 
fly to our spiritual monitors for counsel. Will not they, 
the immortal souls of the ages past, who have guided us 
to a knowledge of the truth, assist us also in preserving it 
pure ? " 

In spite of this, in spite of my admiration of Stilton's 
intellect, and my yet unshaken faith in Spirituahsm, I was 
conscious that the harmony of the circle was becoming 
impaired in me. Was I falling behind in spiritual progress ? 
Was I too weak to be the medium for the promised reve- 
lations ? I threw myself again and again into the trance, 
wath a recklessness of soul which fitted me to receive any, 
even the darkest impressions, to catch and proclaim every 



460 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

guilty whisper of the senses, and, while under the influence 
of the excitement, to exult in the age of license which I 
believed to be at hand. But darker, stronger grew the 
terror which lurked behind this spiritual carnival. A more 
tremendous power than that which I now recognized as 
coming from Stilton's brain was present, and I saw myself 
whirling nearer and neai'er to its grasp. I felt, by a sort 
of blind instinct, too vague to be expressed, that some de- 
moniac agency had thrust itself into the manifestations, — 
perhaps had been mingled ^vith them from the outset. 

For two or three months, my life was the strangest mix- 
ture of happiness and misery. I walked about with the 
sense of some crisis hanging over me. My " possessions " 
became fiercer and wilder, and the reaction so much more 
exhausting that I fell into the habit of restoring myself by 
means of the bottle of brandy which Mr. Stilton took care 
should be on hand, in case of a visit from Joe Manton. 
Miss Fetters, strange to say, was not in the least afiected 
by the powerful draughts she imbibed. But, at the same 
time, my waking life was growing brighter and brighter 
under the power of a new and delicious experience. My 
nature is eminently social, and I had not been able — indeed, 
I did not desire — wholly to withdraw myself from inter- 
course with non-believers. There was too much in society 
that was congenial to me to be given up. My instinctive 
dislike to Miss Abby Fetters, and my compassionate regard 
for Mrs. Stilton's weakness, only served to render the com- 
pany of intelligent, cultivated women more attractive to 
me. Among those whom I met most frequently was Miss 
Agnes Honeywood, a calm, quiet, imobtrusive girl, the 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A ilEDIUM. 461 

characteristic of whose face was sweetness rather than 
beauty, while the first feeling she inspired was respect 
rather than admiration. She had just that amount of self- 
possession which conceals without conquering the sweet 
timidity of woman. Her voice Avas low, yet clear ; and 
her mild eyes, I found, were capable, on occasion, of both 
flashing and melting. "Why describe her? I loved her 
before I knew it ; but, with the consciousness of my love, that 
clairvoyant sense on which I learned to depend failed for 
the first time. Did she love me ? When I sought to an- 
swer the question in her presence, all was confusion within. 

This was not the only new influence which entered into 
and increased the tumult of my mind. The other half of 
my two-sided nature — the cool, reflective, investigating 
faculty — had been gradually ripening, and the questions 
which it now began to present seriously disturbed the 
complacency of my theories. I saw that I had accepted 
many things on very unsatisfactory evidence ; but, on the 
other hand, there was much for which I could find no other 
explanation. Let me be frank, and say, that I do not now 
pretend to explain all the phenomena of Spiritualism. This, 
however, I determined to do, — ^to ascertain, if possible, 
whether the influences which governed me in the trance 
state came from the persons around, from the exercise of 
some independent faculty of my own mind, or really and 
truly from the spirits of the dead. Mr. Stilton appeared 
to notice that some internal conflict was going on ; but he 
said nothing in regard to it, and, as events proved, he 
entirely miscalculated its character. 

I said to myself. — " If this chaos continues, it will drive 



4o2 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

me mad. Let me have one bit of solid earth beneath my 
feet, and I can stand until it subsides. Let me throw over 
the best bower of the heart, since all the anchors of the 
mind are dragging!" I summoned resolution. I made 
that desperate venture which no true man makes without a 
pang of forced courage ; but, thank God ! I did not make 
it in vain. Agnes loved, me, and in the deep, quiet bliss 
which this knowledge gave I felt the promise of deliver- 
ance. She knew and lamented my connexion with the 
Spiritualists ; but, perceiving my mental condition from the 
few intimations which I dared to give her, discreetly held 
her peace. But I could read the anxious expression of that 
gentle face none the less. 

My first endeavor to solve the new questions was to check 
the abandon of the trance condition, and interfuse it with 
more of sober consciousness. It was a diificult task ; and 
nothing but the circumstance that my consciousness had 
never been entirely lost enabled me to make any progress. 
I finally succeeded, as I imagined (certainty is impossible), 
in separating the different influences which impressed me — • 
perceiving where one terminated and the other commenced, 
or Adhere two met and my mind vibrated from one to the 
other until the stronger prevailed, or where a thought 
which seemed to originate in my own brain took the lead 
and swept away with me like the mad rush of a prairie colt. 
When out of the trance, I noticed attentively the expres- 
sions made use of by Mr. Stilton and the other members oi 
the circle, and w^as surprised to find how many of them I 
had reproduced. But might they not, in the first place^ 
have been derived from me ? And what was the vague, 



THE CO^sFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 463 

dark Presence which still overshadowed me at such times ? 
What was that power which I had tempted — which we 
were all tempting, every time we met — and which continu- 
ally drew nearer and became more threatening? I knew, 
not; and I know not. I would rather not speak or think 
of it any more. 

My suspicions with regard to Stilton and Miss Fetters, 
were confirmed by a number of circumstances which I need 
not describe. That he should treat his wife in a harsh, 
ironical manner, which the poor woman felt, but could not 
understand, did not surprise me ; but at other times there 
was a treacherous tenderness about him. He would dilate 
eloquently upon the bhss of living in accordance Avith the 
spiritual harmonies. Among us^ he said, there could be no 
more hati'ed or mistrust or jealousy — nothing but love, 
pure, unselfish, perfect love. " You, my dear,'' (turning 
to Mrs. Stilton,) " belong to a sphere which is included 
within my own, and share in my harmonies and affinities ; 
yet the soul-matter which adheres to you is of a different 
texture from mine. Yours has also its independent affini- 
ties ; I see and respect them ; and even though they might 
lead our bodies — our outward, material lives — away from 
one another, we should still be true to that glorious light 
of love which permeates all soul-matter." 

" Oh, Abijah !" cried Mrs. Stilton, really distressed, 
" how can you say such a thing of me ? You know I can 
never adhere to anybody else but yoa !" 

Stilton would then call in my aid to explain his meaning, 
asserting that I had a faculty of reaching his wife's intel- 
lect, which he did not himself possess. Feeling a certain 



464 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

sympathy for her painful confusion of mmd, I did my best 
to give his words an interpretation which soothed her fears. 
Then she begged his i)ardon, taking all the blame to her 
own stupidity, and received his grudged, unwilling kiss 
with a restored happiness which pained me to the heart. 

I had a growing presentiment of some approaching cata- 
strophe. I felt, distinctly, the presence of unhallowed pas- 
sions in our circle ; and my steadfast love for Agnes, borne 
thither in my bosom, seemed like a pure white dove in a 
cage of unclean birds. Stilton held me from him by the 
superior strength of his intellect. I began to mistrust, even 
to hate him, while I was still subject to his power, and una- 
ble to acquaint him with the change in my feelings. Miss 
Fetters was so repulsive that I never spoke to her when it 
could be avoided. I had tolerated her, heretofore, for the 
sake of her spii-itual gift ; but now, when I began to doubt 
the authenticity of that gift, her hungry eyes, her thin lips, 
her flat breast, and cold, dry hands excited in me a sensa- 
tion of absolute abhorrence. 

The doctrine of affinities had some time before been 
adopted by the circle, as a part of the Spiritual Truth. 
Other circles, with which we were in communication, had 
also received the same revelation ; and the ground upon 
which it was based, in fact, rendered its acceptance easy. 
Even T, shielded as I was by the protecting arms of a pure 
love, sought in vain for arguments to refute a doctrine, the 
practical operation of which, I saw, might be so dangerous. 
The soul had a right to seek its kincJred soul : that I could 
not deny. Having found, they belonged to each other. 
Love is the only ^aw which those who love are bound to 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEmUM. 465 

obey. I shall not repeat all the sophistry whereby these 
positions were strengthened. The doctrine soon blossomed 
and bore fruit, the nature of which left no doubt as to the 
character of the tree. 

The catastrophe came sooner than I had anticipated, and 
partly through my own instrumentality ; though, in any 
case, it must finally have come. We were met together at 
the house of one of the most zealous and fanatical believ- 
ers. There were but eight persons present — the host and 
his wife, (an equally zealous proselyte,) a middle-aged 
bachelor neighbor, Mr. and Mrs. Stilton, Miss Fetters and 
her father, and myself. It was a still, cloudy, sultry eve- 
ning, after one of those dull, oppressive days when all the 
bad blood in a man seems to be uppermost in his veins. 
The manifestations upon the table, with which we com- 
menced, were unusually rapid and lively. " I am convinced," 
said Mr. Stilton, " that we shall receive important revela- 
tions to-night. My own mind possesses a clearness and 
quickness, which, I have noticed, always precede the visit 
of a superior spirit. Let us be passive and receptive, my 
friends. We are but instruments in the hands of loftier 
intelligences, and only through our obedience can this second 
advent of Truth be fulfilled." 

He looked at me with that expression which I so well 
knew, as the signal for a surrender of my will. I had come 
rather unwillingly, for I was getting heartily tired of the 
business, and longed to shake off my habit of (spiritual) 
intoxication, which no longer possessed any attraction, 
since I had been allowed to visit Agnes as an accepted lover. 
In fact, I continued to hold my place in the circle princi- 

20^ 



466 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

pally for the sake of satisfying myself with regard to the 
real nature and causes of the phenomena. On tliis night, 
something in Mr. Stilton's face arrested my attention, and 
a rapid inspiration flashed through my mind. " Suppose," 
I thought, " I allow the usual effect to be produced, yet 
reverse the character of its operation ? I am convinced 
that he has been directing the current of my thought accord- 
ing to his will ; let me now render myself so thoroughly 
passive, that my mind, like a mirror, shall reflect what passes 
through his, retaining nothing of my own except the simple 
consciousness of what I am doing." Perhaps this was 
exactly what he desired. He sat, bending forward a little 
over the table, his square jaws firmly set, his eyes hidden 
beneath their heavy brows, and every long, wiry hair on 
his head in its proper place. I fixed my eyes upon him, 
threw my mind into a state of perfect receptivity, and 
waited. 

It was not long before I felt his apj)roach. Shadow after 
shadow flitted across the still mirror of my inward sense. 
Whether the thoughts took words in his brain or in mine, 
— whether I first caught his disjointed musings, and, by 
their utterance reacting upon him, gave system and deve- 
lopment to his thoughts — I cannot tell. But this I know : 
what I said came wholly from him — not from the slandered 
spirits of the dead, not from the vagaries of my own ima- 
gination, but from him, " Listen to me !" I said. " In 
the flesh I was a martyr to the Truth, and I am permitted 
to communicate only with those whom the Truth has made 
free. You are the heralds of the greac day ; you have 
climbed from sphere to sphere, mitil now you stand near 



THE CONFESSIOXS OF A MEDIUM. 467 

the fountains of light. But it is not enough that you see : 
your lives must reflect the light. The inward vision is for 
you, but the outward manifestation thereof is for the souls 
of others. Fulfil the harmonies in the flesh. Be the living 
music, not the silent instruments." 

There was more, much more of this — a plenitude of elo- 
quent sound, which seems to embody sublime ideas, but 
which, carefully examined, contains no more palpable sub- 
stance than sea-froth. If the reader will take the trouble 
to read an " Epic of the Starry Heavens," the production 
of a Spiritual Medium, he will find several hundred pages 
of the same character. But, by degrees, the revelation 
descended to- details, and assumed a personal application. 
" In you, in all of you, the spiritual harmonies are still vio- 
lated," was the conclusion. " You, Abijah Stilton, who are 
chosen to hold up the light of truth to the world, require 
that a transparent soul, capable of transmitting that light 
to you, should be allied to yours. She who is called your 
wife is a clouded lens; she can receive the light only 

through John , who is her true spiritual husband, as 

Abby Fetters is your true spiritual wife !" 

I was here conscious of a sudden cessation of the influ- 
ence which forced me to speak, and stopped. The mem- 
bers of the circle opposite to me — the host, his wife, 
neighbor, and old Mr. Fetters — were silent, but their faces 
exhibited more satisfaction than astonishment. My eye 
fell upon Mrs. Stilton. Her face was pale, her eyes widely 
opened, and her lips dropped apart, with a stunned, bewil- 
dered expression. It was the blank face of a woman walk- 
ing in her sleep. These observations were accomplished in 



468 AT H03HE AND ABROAD. 

an instant ; for Miss Fetters, suddenly possessed with the 
spirit of Black Hawk, sprang upon her feet. " Ugh ! 
ugh ! " she exclaimed, in a deep, harsh voice, " where's the 
pale-face ? Black Hawk, he like him — he love him much !" 
— and therewith threw her arms around Stilton, fairlj 
lifting him off his feet. " Ugh ! fire-water for Black Hawk ! 
— big Injun drink!" — and she tossed off a tumbler of 
brandy. By this time I had wholly recovered my con- 
sciousness, but remained silent, stupefied by the extraordi- 
nary scene. 

Presently Miss Fetters became more quiet, and the pos- 
session left her. " My friends," said Stilton, in his cold, 
unmoved voice, " I feel that the spirit has spoken truly. 
We must obey our spiritual affinities, or our great and 
glorious mission will be unfulfilled. Let us rather rejoice 
that we have been selected as the instruments to do this 
work. Come to me, Abby ; and you, Rachel, remember 
that our harmony is not disturbed, but only made more 
comj^lete." 

" Abijah !'' exclaimed Mrs. Stilton, with a pitiful cry, 
while the tears burst hot and fast from her eyes ; " dear hus- 
band, what does this mean ? Oh, don't tell me that I am 
to be cast off! You promised to love me and care for me, 
Abijah ! I'm not bright, I know, but I'll try to understand 
you ; indeed, I will ! . Oh, don't be so cruel ! — don't" — 
and the poor creature's voice completely gave way. 

She dropped on the floor at his feet, and lay there, sob- 
bing piteously. 

" Rachel, Rachel," said he — and his face was not quite 
80 calm as his voice — " don't be rebellious. We are gov- 



THE CONFESSIONS OP A MEDIUM. 469 

eroed by a higher Power. This is all for our own good, 
and for the good of the world. Besides, ours was not a 
perfect affinity. You will be much happier with John, as 
he harmonizes " 

I could endure it no longer. Indignation, pity, the full 
energy of my will possessed me. He lost his power over 
me then, and forever. 

" What ! " I exclaimed, " you blasphemer, beast that 
you are, you dare to dispose of your honest wife in this 
infamous way, that you may be free to indulge your own 
vile appetites ? — you, who have outraged the dead and the 
living alike, by making me utter your forgeries? Take 
her back, and let this disgraceful scene end ! — take her 
back, or I will give you a brand that shall last to the end 
of your days !'' 

He turned deadly pale, and trembled. I knew that he 
made a desperate effort to bring me under the control of 
his will, and laughed mockingly as I saw his knit brow and 
the swollen veins in his temples. As for the others, they 
seemed paralyzed by the suddenness and fierceness of my 
attack. He wavered but for an instant, however, and his 
self-possession returned. 

" Ha ! " he exclaimed, " it is the Spirit of Evil that 
speaks in him ! The Devil himself has risen to destroy our 
glorious fabric ! Help me, friends ! help me to bind him, 
and to silence his infernal voice, before he drives the pure 
spirits from our midst !" 

With that, he advanced a step towards me, and raised a 
hand to seize my arm, while the others followed behind. 
But I was too quick for him. Weak as I was, in compari 



470 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

son, rage gave me strength, and a blow, delivered with the 
rapidity of lightning just under the chin, laid him sense- 
less on the floor. Mrs. Stilton screamed, and threw herseli 
over him. The rest of the company remained as if stupe- 
fied. The storm which had been gathering all the evening 
at the same instant broke over the house in simultaneous 
thunder and rain. 

I stepped suddenly to the door, opened it, and drew a 
long, deep breath of relief, as I found myself alone in the 
darkness. " ISTow," said I, " I have done tampering with 
God's best gift ; I will be satisfied with the natural sun- 
shine which beams from His Word and from His Works ; 
I have learned wisdom at the expense of shame ! " I ex- 
ulted in my new freedom, in my restored purity of soul ; 
and the wdnd, that swept down the dark, lonely street, 
seemed to exult with me. The rains beat upon me, but I 
heeded them not ; nay, I turned aside from the homeward 
path, in order to pass by the house where Agnes lived. 
Her window was dark, and I knew she was sleeping, lulled 
by the storm; but I stood a moment below, in the rain, 
and said aloud, softly — 

" Now, Agnes, I belong wholly to you ! Pray to God 
for me, darling, that I may never lose the true light I have 
found at last ! " 

My healing, though complete in the end, was not instan- 
taneous. The habit of the trance, I found, had really 
impaired the action of my will. I experienced a periodic 
tendency to return to it, which I have been able to over- 
come only by the most vigorous efforts. I found it pru- 
dent, indeed, to banish from my mind, as far as was possi- 



THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 471 

ble, all subjects, all memories, connected with Spiritualism. 
In this work I was aided by Agnes, who now possessed my 
entire confidence, and who willingly took upon herself the 
guidance of my mind at those seasons when my own 
governing faculties flagged. Gradually my mental health 
returned, and I am now beyond all danger of ever again 
being led into such fatal dissipations. The writing of this 
narrative, in fact, has been a test of my ability to overlook 
and describe my experience without being touched by its 
past delusions. If some portions of it should not be wholly 
intelligible to the reader, the defect lies in the very nature 
of the subject. 

It will be noticed that I have given but a partial expla- 
nation of the spiritual phenomena. Of the genuineness of 
the physical manifestations I am fully convinced, and I can 
account for them only by the supposition of some subtle 
agency whereby the human will operates upon inert mat- 
ter. Clairvoyance is a sufficient explanation of the utter- 
ances of the Mediums — at least of those which I have 
heard ; but there is, as I have said before, something in the 
background, which I feel too indistinctly to describe, yet 
which I know to be Evil. I do not wonder at, though I 
lament, the prevalence of the belief in Spiritualism. In a 
few individual cases it may have been productive of good, 
but its general tendency is evil. There are probably but 
few Stiltons among its apostles, few Miss Fetterses among 
its Mediums; but the condition which accompanies the 
trance, as I have shown, inevitably removes the wholesome 
check which holds our baser passions in subjection. The 
Medium is at the mercy of any evil will, and the impres* 



472 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

sioiis received from a corrupt mind are always liable to be 
accepted by innocent believers as revelations from the 
spirits of the holy dead. I shall shock many honest souls 
by this confession, but I hope and believe that it may 
awaken and enlighten others. Its publication is necessary, 
as an expiation for some of the evil which has been done 
through my own instrumentality. 

I learned, two days afterwards, that Stilton (who was not 
seriously damaged by my blow) had gone to New York, 
taking Miss Fetters with him. Her ignorant, weak-minded 
father was entirely satisfied with the proceeding. Mrs. 
Stilton, helpless and heart-broken, remained at the house 
where our circle had met, with her only child, a boy of 
three years of age, who, fortunately, inherited her weak- 
ness rather than his father's power. Agnes, on learning 
this, insisted on having her removed from associations 
which were at once unhappy and dangerous. We went 
together to see her, and, after much persuasion, and many 
painful scenes which I shall not recapitulate, succeeded in 
sending her to her father, a farmer in Connecticut. She 
still remains there, hoping for the day when her guilty 
husband shall return and be instantly forgiven. 

My task is ended ; may it not have been performed in 
vain ! 



VIII. 

THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 

As the principal personage of this story is dead, and 
there is no likelihood that any of the others will ever see 
the " Atlantic Monthly," I feel free to tell it without reser- 
vation. 

The mercantile house of which I was until recently an 
active member had many business connexions throughout 
the Western States, and I was therefore in the habit of 
making an annual journey throughout them, in the interest 
of the firm. In fact, I was always glad to escape from the 
dirt and hubbub of Cortland Street, and to exchange the 
smell of goods and boxes, cellars and gutters, for that of 
prairie grass and even of prairie mud. Although wearing 
the immaculate linen and golden studs of the city Valen- 
tine, there still remained a good deal of the country Orson 
in my blood, and I endured many hard, repulsive, yea, 
downright vulgar experiences for the sake of a run at large, 
and the healthy animal exaltation which accompanied it. 

Eight or nine years ago, (it is, perhaps, as well not to be 
very precise, as yet, with regard to dates,) I found myself 



474 AT HOME AND ABliOAD. 

at Peoria, in lUiyiois, rather late in the season. The busi- 
ness I had on hand was mostly transacted ; but it was 
still necessary that I should visit Bloomington and Terre 
Haute before returning to the East. I had come from 
Wisconsin and iSTorthern Illinois, and, as the great railroad 
spider of Chicago had then spun but a few threads of his 
present tremendous mesh, I had made the greater part of 
my journey on horseback. By the time I reached Peoria 
the month of November was well advanced, and the 
weather had become very disagreeable. I was strongly 
temj)ted to sell my horse and take the stage. to Blooming- 
ton, but the roads were even worse to a traveller on 
wheels than to one in the saddle, and the sunny day which 
followed my arrival flattered me with the hojje that others 
as fair might succeed it. 

The distance to Bloomington was forty miles, and the 
road none of the best ; yet, as my horse " Peck " (an abbre- 
viation of " Pecatonica"), had had two days' rest, I did not 
leave Peoria until after the usual dinner at twelve o'clock, 
trusting that I should reach my destination by eight or 
nine in the evening, at the latest. Broad bands of dull, 
gray, felt-Eke clouds crossed the sky, and the wind had a 
rough edge to it which predicted that there was rain within 
a day's march. The oaks along the rounded river-bluffs 
still held on to their leaves, although the latter were 
entirely brown and dead, and rattled around me with au 
ominous sound, as I climbed to the level of the prairie, 
leaving the bed of the muddy Illinois below. Peck's hoofs 
sank deeply into the unctuous black soil, which resembled 
a jetty tallow rather than earth, and his progress was slow 



TUE HAUXTED bHA^iXY. 475 

and toilsome. The sky became more and more obscured; 
the sun faded to a ghastly moon, then to a white blotch in 
the gray vault, and finally retired in disgust. Indeed, there 
was nothing in the landscape worth his contemplation. 
Dead flats of black, bristling with short corn-stalks, flats of 
brown grass, a brown belt of low woods in the distance, — 
that was all the horizon inclosed : no embossed bowl, with 
its rim of sculptured hills, its round of colored pictures, 
but a flat earthen pie-dish, over which the sky fell lil^e a 
pewter cover. 

After riding for an hour or two over the desolate level, 
I descended through rattling oaks to the bed of a stream, 
and then ascended through rattling oaks to the prairie 
beyond. Here, however, I took the wrong road, and 
found myself, some three miles farther, at a farm-house, 
where it terminated. " You km go out over the perairah 
yander,'' said the farmer, dropping his maiil beside a rail 
he had just split ofi*, — " there's a plain trail from Sykes's 
that'll bring you onto the road not fur from Sugar Crick." 
With which knowledge I plucked up heart and rode on. 

What with the windings and turnings of the various 
cart-tracks, the family resemblance in the groves of oak 
and hickory, and the heavy, uniform gray of the sky, I 
presently lost my compass-needle, — that natural instinct 
of direction, on which I had learned to rely. East, west, 
north, south, — all were alike, and the very doubt paralyzed 
the faculty. The growing darkness of the sky, the watery 
moaning of the wind, betokened night and storm; but I 
pressed on, hap-hazard, determined, at least, to reach one 
of the incipient villages on the Bloomington road. 



il6 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

In an hour more, I found myself on the brink of another 
winding hollow, threaded by a broad, shallow stream. On 
the opposite side, a quarter of a mile above, stood a rough 
shanty, at the foot of the rise which led to the prairie. 
After fording the stream, however, I found that the trail 
I had followed continued forw^ard in the same direction, 
leaving this rude settlement on the left. On the opposite 
side of the hollow, the prairie again stretched before me, 
dark and flat, and destitute of any sign of habitation. I 
could scarcely distinguish the trail any longer ; in half an 
hour, I knew, I should be swallowed up in a gulf of impe- 
netrable darkness; and there was evidently no choice left 
me but to return to the lonely shanty, and there seek shel- 
ter for the night. 

To be thwarted in one's plans, even by wind or weather, 
is always vexatious ; but in this case, the prospect of spend- 
ing a night in such a dismal corner of the world was espe- 
cially disagreeable. I am — or at least I consider myself — 
a thoroughly matter-of-fact man, and my first thought, I 
am not ashamed to confess, was of oysters. Visions of a 
favorite saloon, and many a pleasant supper with Dunham 
and Beeson, (my partners,) all at once ^^opped into my 
mind, as I turned back over the brow of the hollow and 
urged Peck down its rough slope. " Well," thought I, at 
last, " this will be one more story for our next meeting. 
Who knows what originals I may not find^ even in a soli- 
tary settler's shanty ?" 

I could discover no trail, and the darkness thickened 
rapidly while I picked my w^ay across dry gullies, formed 
by the drainage of the prairie above, rotten tree-trunks. 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 411 

Stumps, and spots of thicket. As I approached the shanty, 
a faint gleam through one of its two small windows showed 
that it was inhabited. In the rear, a space of a quarter 
of an acre, inclosed by a huge worm-fence, was evidently 
the vegetable-patch, at one corner of w^hich a small stable, 
roofed and buttressed with corn-fodder, leaned against the 
hill. I drew rein in front of the building, and was about 
to hail its inmates, when I observed the figure of a man 
issue from the stable. Even in the gloom, there was some- 
thing forlorn and dispiriting in his walk. He approached 
with a slow^, dragging step, apparently unaware of my 
presence. 

" Good evening, friend !" I said. 

He stopped, stood still for half a minute, and finally 
responded, — 

"Who air you?" 

The tone of his voice, querulous and lamenting, rather 
implied, " Why don't you let me alone ?" 

" I am a traveller," I answered, " bound from Peoria to 
Bloomington, and have lost my way. It is dark, as you 
know, and likely to rain, and I don't see how I can get any 
farther to-night." 

Another pause. Then he said, slowly, as if speaking to 
himself — 

" There a'n't no other place nearer 'n four or five mile." 

" Then I hope you will let me stay here." 

The answer, to my surprise, was a deep sigh. 

" I am used to roughing it," I urged ; " and besides, I 
will pay for any trouble I may give you." 

*' It a'n't that,'' said he ; then added, hesitatingly—" fact 



478 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

is, we 're lonesome people here — don't often see strangers; 
yit I s'pose you can't go no furder ; — well, I'll talk to my 
wife." 

Therewith he entered the shanty, leaving me a little dis- 
concerted with so uncertain, not to say suspicious, a recep- 
tion. I heard the sound of voices — one of them unmistak- 
able in its nasal shrillness — in what seemed to be a harsh 
debate, and distinguished the words, "I didn't bring it on," 
followed with, " Tell him, then, if you like, and let him 
stay" — which seemed to settle the matter. The door pre- 
sently opened, and the man said — 

" I guess we'll have t'accommodate you. Give me your 
things, an' then I'll put your horse up.'* 

I unstrapped my valise, took off the saddle, and, having 
seen Peck to his fodder-tent, where I left him with some 
ears of corn in an old basket, returned to the shanty. It 
was a rude specimen of the article — a single room of some 
thirty by fifteen feet, with a large fireplace of sticks and 
clay at one end, while a half-partition of unplaned planks set 
on end formed a sort of recess for the bed at the other. A 
good fire on the hearth, however, made it seem tolerably 
cheerful, contrasted with the dismal gloom outside. The 
furniture consisted of a table, two or three chairs, a broad 
bench, and a kitchen-dresser of boards. Some golden ears 
of seed-corn, a few sides of bacon, and ropes of onions' hung 
from the rafters. 

A woman in a blue calico gown, with a tin coffee-pot in 
one hand and a stick in the other, was raking out the red 
coals from under the burning logs. At my salutation, she 
partly turned, looked hard at me, nodded, and muttered 



THE HAUXTED SHAXTT. 479 

some inaudible words. Then, having levelled the coals 
properly, she put down the coffee-pot, and, facing about, 
exclaimed — " Jimmy, git off that cheer !" 

Though this phrase, short and snappish enough, was not 
worded as an invitation for me to sit down, I accepted it as 
such, and took the chair which a lean boy of some nine or 
ten years old had hurriedly vacated. In such cases, I had 
learned by experience, it is not best to be too forward: 
wait quietly, and allow the unwilling hosts time to get 
accustomed to your presence. I inspected the family for a 
while, in silence. The spare, bony form of the woman, her 
deep-set gray eyes, and the long, thin nose, which seemed 
to be merely a scabbard for her sharp-edged voice, gave me 
her character at the first glance. As for the man, he was 
worn by some constant fret or worry, rather than naturally 
spare. His complexion was sallow, his face honest, every 
line of it, though the expression was dejected, and there 
was a helpless patience in his voice and movements, which 
I have often seen in women, but never before in a man. 
" Henpecked in the first degree," was the verdict I gave, 
without leaving my seat. The silence, shyness, and puny 
appearance of the boy might be accounted for by the lone- 
liness of his life, and the usual " shakes" ; but there was a 
wild, frightened look in his eye, a nervous restlessness about 
his limbs, which excited my curiosity. I am no believer in 
those freaks of fancy called " presentiments,'' but I certainly 
felt that there was something unpleasant, perhaps painful, 
in the private relations of the family. 

Meanwhile, the supper gradually took shape. The coffee 
was" boiled, (far too much, for my taste,) bacon fried, pota 



480 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

toes roasted, and certain lumps of dough transformed into 
farinaceous grape-shot, called " biscuits." Dishes of blue 
queensware, knives and forks, cups and saucers of various 
patterns, and a bowl of molasses were placed upon the table ; 
and finally the woman said, speaking to, though not looking 
at, me — 

" I s'pose you ha'n't had your supper." 

I accepted the invitation with a simple " No," and ate 
enough of the rude fare (for I was really hungry) to satisfy 
my hosts that I was not proud. I attempted no conversa- 
tion, knowing that such people never talk when they eat, 
until the meal was over, and the man, who gladly took one 
of my cigars, was seated comfortably before the fire. I 
then related my story, told my name and business, and by 
degrees established a mild flow of conversation. The 
woman, as she washed the dishes and cleared up things for 
the night, listened to us, and now and then made a remark 
to the cofifee-pot or frying-pan, evidently intended for our 
ears. Some things which she said must have had a mean- 
ing hidden from me, for I could see that the man winced, 
and at last he ventured to say — 

" Mary Ann, what's the use in talkin' about it ?" 

" Do as you like," she snapped back ; " only I a'n't a-goin' 
to be blamed for your doin's. The stranger '11 find out, 
soon enough." 

"You find this life rather lonely, I should think," I 
remarked, with a view of giving the conversation a differ- 
ent turn. 

"Lonely '" she repeated, jerking out a fragment of mali- 
cious laughter. " It's lonely enough in the daytime, Good- 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 481 

ness knows ; but you'll have your fill o' company afore 
moriiin'." 

With that, she threw a defiant glance at her husband. 

"Fact is," said he, shrinking from her eye, " we're sort 
o' troubled with noises at night. P'raps you'll be skeered, 
but it's no more 'n noise — onpleasant, but never hurts 
nothin'." 

" You don't mean to say this shanty is haunted ?" I asked. 

" Well — yes : some folks 'd call it so. There is noises an' 
things goin' on, but you can't see nobody." 

" Oh, if that is all," said I, " you need not be concerned 
on my account. I^othing is so strange, but the cause of it 
can be discovered." 

Again the man heaved a deep sigh. The woman said, in 
rather a milder tone — 

" What's the good o' knowin' what makes it, when you 
can't stop it ?" 

As I was neither sleepy nor fatigued, this information was 
rather w^elcome than otherwise. I had full confidence in 
my own courage ; and if anything should happen, it would 
make a capital story for my first New York supper. I saw 
there was but one bed, and a small straw mattress on the 
floor beside it for the boy, and therefore declared that I 
should sleep on the bench, wrapped in my cloak. Neither 
objected to this, and they presently retired. I determined, 
however, to keep awake as long as possible. I threw a 
fresh log on the fire, lit another cigar, made a few entries 
in my note-book, and finally took the "Iron Mask" of 
Dumas from my valise, and tried to read by the wavering 
flashes of the fire. 

21 



482 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

In this manner another hour passed away. The deep 
breathing — not to say snoring — from the recess indicated 
that my hosts were sound asleep, and the monotonous 
Tvhistle of the wind around the shanty began to exercise a 
lulling influence on my own senses. Wrapping myself in 
my cloak, with my valise for a pillow, I stretched myself 
out on the bench, and strove to keep my mind occupied 
with conjectures concerning the sleeping family. Further- 
more, I recalled all the stories of ghosts and haunted houses 
which I had ever heard, constructed explanations for such 
as were still unsolved, and, so far from feeling any alarm, 
desired nothing so much as that the supernatural perform- 
ances might commence. 

My thoughts, however, became gradually less and less 
coherent, and I was just sliding over the verge of slumber, 
w^hen a faint sound in the distance caught my ear. 1 
listened intently: certainly there was a far-off, indistinct 
sound, different from the dull, continuous sweep of the wind. 
I rose on the bench, fully awake, yet not excited, for my 
first thought was that other travellers might be lost or 
belated. By this time the sound was quite distinct, and, 
to my great surprise, appeared to proceed from a drum, 
rapidly beaten. I looked at myAvatch : it was half-past ten. 
Who could be out on the lonely prairie with a drum, at that 
time of night ? There must have been some military festi- 
val, some political caucus, some celebration of the Sons of 
Malta, or jubilation of the Society of the Thousand and 
One, and a few of the scattered members were enlivening 
their dark ride homewards. While I was busy with these 
conjectures, the sound advanced nearer and nearer — and, 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 483 

what was very singular, without the least pause or varia- 
tiou — one steady, regular roll, ringing deep and clear 
through the night. 

The shanty stood at a point where the stream, leaving its 
general southwestern course, bent at a sharp angle to the 
southeast, and faced very nearly in the latter direction. As 
the sound of the drum came from the east, it seemed the 
more probable that it was caused by some person on the 
road which crossed the creek a quarter of a mile below. 
Yet, on approaching nearer, it made directly for the shanty, 
moving, evidently, much more rapidly than a person could 
walk. It then flashed upon my mind that this was the 
noise I was to hear, this the company I was to expect ! 
Louder and louder, deep, strong, and reverberating, roll- 
ing as if for a battle-charge, it came on : it was now but a 
hundred yards distant — now but fifty — ten — -just outside 
the rough clapboard- wall — but, while I had half risen to 
open the door, it passed directly through the wall and 
sounded at my very ears, inside the shanty. 

The logs burned brightly on the hearth : every object in 
the room could be seen more or less distinctly : nothing 
was out of its place, nothing disturbed, yet the rafters 
almost shook under the roll of an invisible drum, beaten by 
invisible hands ! The sleepers tossed restlessly, and a deep 
groan, as if in semi-dream, came from the man. Utterly 
confounded as I was, my sensations were not those of ter- 
ror. Each moment I doubted my senses, and each moment 
the terrific sound convinced me anew. I do not know how 
long I sat thus , in sheer, stupid amazement. It may have 
been one minute, or fifteen, before the drum, passing ovei 



484 AT nOJIE AND ABROAD. 

my head, through the boards again, commenced a slow 
march around the shanty. When it had finished the first, 
and was about commencing the second round, I shook off 
my stupor, and determined to probe the mystery. Open- 
ing the door, I advanced in an oj^posite direction to meet 
it. Again the sound passed close beside my head, but I 
could see nothing, touch nothing. Again it entered the 
shanty, and I followed. I stirred up the fire, casting a 
strong illumination into the darkest corners : I thrust my 
hand into the very heart of the sound, I struck through it 
in all directions with a stick — still I saw nothing, touched 
nothing. 

Of com-se, I do not expect to be believed by half my 
readers — nor can I blame them for their incredulity. So 
astounding is the circumstance, even yet, to myself, that I 
should doubt its reality, were it not therefore necessary, for 
the same reason, to doubt every event of my life. 

At length the sound moved away in the direction whence 
it came, becoming gradually fainter and fainter until it died 
in the distance. But immediately afterwards, from the 
same quarter, came a thin, sharp blast of Tsand — or what 
seemed to be such. If one could imagine a swift, intense 
stream of air, no thicker than a telegraph-wire, producing 
a keen, whistling rush in its passage, he would understand 
the impression made upon my mind. This wind, or sound, 
or whatever it was, seemed to strike an invisible target in 
the centre of the room, and thereupon ensued a new and 
worse confusion. Sounds as of huge planks lifted at one 
end and then allowed to fall, slamming upon the floor, hard, 
wooden claps, crashes, and noises of splitting and snapping, 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 485 

filled the shanty. The rough boards of the floor jarred and 
trembled, and the table and chairs were jolted ofl" their 
feet. Instinctively, I jerked away my legs, whenever the 
invisible planks fell too near them. 

It never came into my mind to charge the family with 
being the authors of these phenomena : their care and dis- 
tress were too evident. There was certainly no other 
human being but myself in or near the shanty. My senses 
of sight and touch availed me nothing, and I confined my 
attention, at last, to simply noting the manifestations, with- 
out attem^Jting to explain them. I began to experience a 
feelmg, not of terror, but of disturbing uncertainty. The 
solid ground was taken from beneath my feet. 

Still the man and his wife groaned and muttered, as if in 
a nightmare sleep, and the boy tossed restlessly on his low 
bed. I would not disturb them, since, by their own con- 
fession, they were accustomed to the visitation. Besides, 
it would not assist me, and, so long as there was no danger 
of personal injury, I preferred to watch alone. I recalled, 
however, the woman's remarks, remembering the myste- 
rious blame she had thrown upon her husband, and felt cer- 
tain that she had adopted some explanation of the noises, 
at his expense. 

As the confusion continued, with more or less violence, 
sometimes pausing for a few minutes, to begin again with 
renewed force, I felt an increasing impression of somebody 
else being present. Outside the shanty this feeling ceased, 
but every time I opened the door I fully expected to see 
some one standing in the centre of the room. Yet, looking 
through the little windows, when the noises were at theii 



486 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

loudest, I could discover nothing. Two hours had passed 
away since I first heard the drum-beat, and I found myself 
at last completely wearied with my fruitless exertions and 
the unusual excitement. By this time the disturbances had 
become faint, with more frequent pauses. All at once, I 
heard a long, weary sigh, so near me that it could not have 
proceeded from the sleepers. A weak moan, expressive of 
utter wretchedness, followed, and then came the words, in 
a woman's voice — came I know not whence, for they seemed 
to be uttered close beside me, and yet far, far away — "How 
great is my trouble ! How long shall I suffer ? I was 
married, in the sight of God, to Eber Nicholson. Have 
mercy, O Lord, and give him to me, or release me from 
him !" 

These were the words, not spoken, but rather moaned 
forth in a slow, monotonous wail of utter helplessness and 
broken-heartedness. I have heard human grief expressed 
in many forms, but I never heard or imagined anything so 
desolate, so surcharged with the despair of an eternal woe. 
It was, indeed, too hojDeless for sympathy. It was the 
utterance of a sorrow which removed its possessor into 
some dark, lonely world girdled with iron walls, against 
which every throb of a helping or consoling heart would 
beat in vain for admittance. So far from being moved or 
softened, the words left upon me *an impression of stolid 
apathy. When they had ceased, I heard another sigh — and 
some time afterwards, far-off, retreating forlornly through 
the eastera darkness, the wailing repetition — " I was mar- 
ried, in the sight of God, to Eber Nicholson. Have mercy, 
O Lord !" 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 487 

This was the last of those midnight marvels. Nothing 
fui'ther disturbed the night except the steady sound of the 
wind. The more I thought of what I had heard, the more 
I was convinced that the phenomena were connected, in 
some way, with the history of my host. I had heard his 
wife call him *' Ebe,'' and did not doubt that he was the 
Eber Nicholson who, for some mysterious crime, was 
haunted by the reproachful ghost. Could murder, or worse 
than murder, lurk behind these visitations ? It was use- 
less to conjecture ; yet, before giving myself up to sleep, I 
determined to know everything that could be known, before 
leaving the shanty. 

My rest was disturbed : my hip-bones pressed unplea- 
santly on the hard bench; and every now and then I 
awoke with a start, hearing the same despairing voice in 
my dreams. The place was always quiet, nevertheless, — 
the disturbances having ceased, as nearly as I could judge, 
about one o'clock in the morning. Finally, from sheer 
weariness, I fell into a deep slumber, which lasted until 
daylight. The sound of pans and kettles aroused me. 
The woman, in her lank blue gown, was bending over the 
fire ; the man and boy had already gone out. As I rose, rub- 
bing my eyes and shaking myself, to find out exactly where 
and who I was, the woman straightened herself and looked 
at me with a keen, questioning gaze, but said nothing. 

" I must have been very sound asleep," said I. 

'■ There's no sound sleepin' here. Don't tell me that." 

"Well," I answered, " your shanty is rather noisy; but, 
as I am neither scared nor hurt, there's no harm done. 
But have you never found out what occasions the noise?" 



488 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 

Her reply was a toss of tlie head and a peculiar snorting 
inteijection, "Hngh!" (impossible to be represented by 
letters,) " it's all her doin'." 

" But who is she P' 

" You'd better ask him.'*'' 

Seeing there was nothing to be got out of her, I went 
down to the stream, washed my face, dried it with my 
pocket-handkerchief, and then looked after Peck. He 
gave a shrill whinny of recognition, and, I thought, seemed 
to be a little restless. A fresh feed of corn was in the old 
basket, and presently the man came into the stable with a 
bunch of hay, and commenced rubbing off the marks of 
Peck's oozy couch which were left on his flanks. As we 
went back to the shanty I noticed that he eyed me fur- 
tively, Avithdut daring to look me full in the face. As I 
was apparently none the worse for the night's experiences, 
he rallied at last, and ventured to talk a% as well as to me. 

By this time, breakfast, which was a repetition of sup- 
per, was ready, and we sat down to the table. During the 
meal, it occurred to me to make an experimental remark. 
Turning suddenly to the man, I asked, — 

" Is your name Eber Nicholson ?" 

" There !" exclaimed the woman, " I knowed he'd heerd 
It!" 

He, however, flushing a moment, and then becoming 
more sallow than ever, nodded first, and then — as if that 
were not sufficient — added, " Yes, that's my name." 

" Where did you move from ?" I continued, falling back 
on the first plan I had formed in my mind. 

" The Western Reserve, not fur from Hudson." 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 489 

I turned the conversation on the comparative advantages 
of Ohio and Illinois, on farming, the price of land, etc., 
carefully avoiding the dangerous subject, and by the time 
breakfast was over had arranged, that, for a consideration, 
he should accompany me as far as the Bloomington road, 
some five miles distant. 

While he went out to catch an old horse, ranging loose 
in the creek-bottom, I saddled Peck, strapped on my valise, 
and made myself ready for the journey. The feeling of 
two silver half-dollars in her hard palm melted down the 
woman's aggressive mood, and she said, with a voice the 
edge whereof was mightily blunted, — 

" Thankee ! it's too much for sich as you had." 

*' It's the best you can give," I replied. 

" That's so !'' said she, jerking my hand up and down 
with a pumping movement, as I took leave. 

I felt a sense of relief when we had climbed the rise and 
had the open prairie again before us. The sky was over- 
cast and the wind strong, but some rain had fallen during 
the night, and the clouds had lifted themselves again. The 
air was fi-esh and damp, but not chill. We rode slowly, 
of necessity, for the mud was deeper than ever. 

I deliberated what course I should take, in order to draw 
from my guide the explanation of the nightly noises. His 
evident shrinking, whenever his wife referred to the sub- 
ject, convinced me that a gradual approach would render 
him shy and uneasy ; and, on the whole, it seemed best to 
surprise him by a sudden assault. Let me strike to the 
heart of the secret at once, — ^I thought, — and the details 
will come of themselves. 

21- 



490 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

While I was thus reflecting, he rode quietly by my side. 
Half turning in the saddle, I looked steadily at his face, and 
said, in an earnest voice, — 

" Eber Nicholson, who was it to whom you were mar- 
ried in the sight of God ?'' 

He started as if struck, looked at me imploringly, turned 
away his eyes, then looked back, became very pale, and 
finally said, in a broken, hesitating voice, as if the worda 
were forced from him against his will, — 

" Her name is Rachel Emmons." 

" Why did you murder her ?" I asked, in a still sterner 
tone. 

In an instant his face burned scarlet. He reined up his 
horse with a violent pull, straightened his shoulders so that 
he appeared six inches taller, looked steadily at me wath a 
strange, mixed expression of anger and astonishment, and 
cried out, — 

" Murder her? TFAy, she^s liviri* nowP^ 

My surprise at the answer was scarcely less great than 
his at the question. 

" You don't mean to say she's not dead ?" I asked. 

" Why, no !" said he, recovering from his sudden excite- 
ment, " she's not dead, or she wouldn't keep on troublin' 
me. She's been livin' in Toledo, these ten year." 

" I beg your pardon, my friend," said I ; " but I don't 
know what to think of what I heard la,st night, and I 
suppose I have the old notion in my head that all ghosts 
are of persons who have been murdered." 

" Oh, if I had killed her," he groaned, " I'd 'a' been hung 
long ago, an' there 'd 'a' been an end of it." 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 4^1 

" Tell me the whole story," said I. " It's hardly likely 
that I can help you, but I can understand how you must 
be troubled, and I'm sure I pity you from my heart." 

I think he felt relieved at my proposal, — glad, perhaps, 
after long silence, to confide to another man the secret of 
his lonely, wretched life. 

" After what you've heerd," said he, " there's nothin* 
that I don't care to tell. I've been sinful, no doubt, — but, 
God knows, there never was a man worse punished. 

" I told you," he continued, after a pause, " that I come 
from the Western Reserve. My father was a middlin' well- 
to-do farmer, — not rich, nor yit exactly poor. He's dead 
now. He was always a savin' man, — looked after money 
a leetle too sharp, I've often thought sence : howsever, 'tisn't 
my place to judge him. "Well, I was brought up on the 
farm, to hard work, like the other boys. Rachel Emmons, 
— she's the same woman that haunts me, you understand, 
— she was the girl o' one of our neighbors, an' poor enough 
he was. His wife was always sickly-like, — an' you know 
it takes a woman as well as a man to git rich farmin'. So 
they were always scrimped, but that didn't hinder Rachel 
from bein' one o' the likeliest gals round. "We went to the 
same school in the winter, her an' me, ('tisn't much school- 
in' I ever got, though,) an' I had a sort o' nateral hankerin' 
after her, as fur back as I can remember. She was differ- 
ent lookin' then from what she is now, — an' me, too, for 
that matter. 

""Well, you know how boys an' gals somehow git to 
likin' each other afore they know it. Me an' Rachel was 
more an' more together, the more we grov^'ed up, only more 



492 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 

secret-like ; so by the time I was twenty an' she was nine* 
teen, we was promised to one another as true as could be. 
I didn't keep company mth her, though — leastways, not 
reg'lar : I was afeard my father 'd find it out, an' I knowed 
what he 'd say to it. He kep' givin' me hints about Mary 
Ann Jones — that was my wife's maiden name. Her father 
had two hundred acres an' money out at interest, an' only 
three children. He'd had ten, but seven of 'em died. I 
had nothin' agin Mary Ann, but I never thought of her that 
way, like I did towards Rachel. 

" Well, things kep' runnin' on ; I was a good deal wor- 
ried about it, but a young feller, you know, don't look fur 
ahead, an' so I got along. One night, howsever — 't was 
jist about as dark as last night was — I'd been to the store 
at the Corners, for a jug o' molasses. Kachel was there, 
gittin' a quarter of a pound o' tea, I think it was, an' some 
sewin'-thread. I went out a little while after her, an' fol- 
lered as fast as I could, for we had the same road nigh to 
home. 

" It weren't long afore I overtook her. 'Twas mighty 
dark, as I was sayin', an' so I hooked her arm into mine, 
an' we went on comfortable together, talkin' about how we 
jist suited each other, like we was cut out o' purpose, an' 
how long we'd have to wait, an' what folks 'd say. O 
Lord ! don't I remember -every word o' that night ? Well, 
we got quite tender-like when we come t' Old Emmons's 
gate, an' I up an' giv' her a hug and a lot o' kisses, to make 
up for lost time. Then she v/ent into the house, an' I 
turned for home ; but I hadn't gone ten steps afore I come 
agin somebody stan'in' in the middle o' the road. ' Hullo !' 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 493 

says I. . The next thing he had a holt o' my coat-collar an' 
shuck me like a tarrier-dog shakes a rat. I knowed who it 
was afore he spoke ; an' I couldn't 'a' been more skeered, 
if the life had all gone out o' me. He'd been down to the 
tavern to see a drover, an' comin home he'd follered behind 
us all the way, hearin' every word we said. 

" I don't like to think o' the words he used that night. 
He was a professin' member, an' yit he swore the awfuUest 
I ever heerd." — Here the man involuntarily raised his hands 
to his ears, as if to stop them against even the memory of 
his father's curses. — " I expected every minute he'd 'a' 
struck me down. I've wished, sence, he had: I don't 
think I could 'a' stood that. Howsever, he dragged me 
home, never lettin' go my collar, till we got into the room 
Avhere mother was settin' up for us. Then he told Aer, only 
makin' it ten times harder 'n it really was. Mother always 
kind o' liked Rachel, 'cause she was mighty handy at sewin' 
an' quiltin', but she 'd no more dared stan' up agin father 
than a sheep agin a bull-dog. She looked at me pityin'-like, 
I must say, an' jist begun to cry — an' I couldn't help cryin' 
nuther, when I saw how it hurt her. 

" Well, after that, 't wa'n't no use thinkin' o' Rachel any 
more. I had to go t' Old Jones's, whether I wanted to or 
no. I felt mighty mean when I thought o' Rachel, an' was 
afeard no good 'd come of it ; but father jist managed things 
his way, an' I couldn't help myself. Old Jones had nothin' 
agin me, for I was a stiddy, hard-workin' feller as there was 
round — an' Mary Ann was always as pleasant as could be, 
then ; — well, I oughtn't to say nothin' agin her now ; she 's 
had a hard lif§ of it, 'long side o' me. Afore long we were 



494 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

bespoke, an' the day set. Father hurried things, \^hen it 
got that fur. I don't think Rachel knowed anything about 
it till the day afore the weddin', or mebby the very day. 
Old Mr. Larrabee was the minister, an' there was only the 
two families at the house, an' Miss Plankerton — her that 
sewed for Mary Ann. I never felt so oneasy in my life, 
though I tried hard not to show it. 

" Well, 'twas all jist over, an' the kissin' about to begin, 
when I heerd the house-door bu'st open, suddent. I felt 
my heart give one jump right up to the root o' my 
tongue, an' then fell back ag'in, sick an' dead-like. 

" The parlor-door flew open right away, an' in come 
Rachel without a bunnet, an' her hair all frowzed by the 
wind. She was as white as a sheet, an' her eyes like two 
burnin' coals. She walked straight through 'em all an' 
stood right afore me. They was all so taken aback that 
they never thought o' stoppin' her. Then she kind o' 
screeched out — ' Eber Nicholson, what are you doin' ?' 
Her voice was strange an' onnatural-like, an' Fd never 
'a' knowed it to be hern, if I hadn't 'a' seen her. I 
couldn't take my eyes off of her, an' I couldn't speak: 
I jist stood there. Then she said ag'in — ' Eber Nichol- 
son, what are you doin' ? You are married to me, in 
the sight of God. You belong to me an' I to you, for- 
ever an' forever !" Then they begun cryin' out — ' Go 
'way !' ' Take her away !' ' What d's she mean ?' an* 
old Mr. Larrabee ketohed hold of her arm. She begun 
to jerk an' trimble all over ; she drawed in her breath 
in a sort o' groanin' way, awful to hear, an' then drop- 
ped down on the floor in a fit. I bu'st out in a terri- 



THE HAUNTED SHAXTY. 495 

ble spell o' cryin' ; — I couldn't 'a' helped it, to save my 
life." 

The man paused, drew his sleeve across his eyes, and 
then timidly looked at me. Seeing nothing in my face, 
doubtless, but an expression of the profoundest commisera- 
tion, he remarked, with a more assured voice, as if in self- 
justification — 

" It was a pretty hard thing for a man to go through 
with, now, wasn't it ?'' 

" You may well say that," said I. " Your story is not 
yet finished, however. This Rachel Emmons — you say she 
is still living — ^in what way does she cause the disturb- 



ances r 



9" 



" I'll tell you all I know about it," said he — " an' if 
you understand it tlien^ you're wiser 'n I am. After they 
carried her home, she had a long spell o' sickness — come 
near dyin', they said ; but they brought her through, at 
last, an' she got about ag'in, lookin' ten year older. I kep' 
out of her sight, though. I lived awhile at Old Jones's, 
till I could find a good farm to rent, or a cheap un to buy. 
I wanted to git out o' the neighborhood : I was oneasy all 
the time, bein' so near Rachel. Her mother was wuss, an' 
\tQY father failin'-like, too. Mother seen 'em often : she was 
as good a neighbor to 'em as she dared be. Well, I got 
sort o' tired, an' went out to Michi^a^ an' bought a likely 
farm. Old Jones giv' me a start. I took Mary Ann out, 
an' we got along well enough, a matter o' two year. We 
heerd from home now an' then. Rachel's father and 
mother both died, about the time we -had our first boy 
— ^him that you seen — an' she went oif to Toledo, we 



496 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

lieerd, an' hired out to do sewin'. She was always a 
mighty good hand at it, an' could cut out as nice as a 
born manty -maker. She'd had another fit after the fune- 
rals, an' was older-lookin' an' more serious than ever, they 
said. 

" Well, Jimmy was six months old, or so, when we 
begun to be woke up every night by his cryin'. Nothin' 
seemed to be the matter with him : he was only fright- 
ened-like, an' couldn't be quieted. I heerd noises some- 
times — nothin' hke what come afterwards — but sort o' 
crackin' an' snappin', sich as you hear in new furnitur', 
an' it seemed like somebody was in the room ; but I 
couldn't find nothin'. It got wuss and wuss : Mary Ann 
was sure the house was haunted, an' I had to let her 
go home for a whole winter. When she was away, it 
went on the same as ever — not every night — sometimes 
not more 'n oust a week — ^but so loud as to wake me 
up, reg'lar. I sent word to Mary Ann to come on, an' 
I'd sell out an' go to Illinois. Good perairah land was 
cheap then, an' I'd ruther go furder off, for the sake o' 
quiet. 

" So we pulled up stakes an' come out here : but it 
weren't long afore the noise foUered us, wuss 'n ever, an' 
we found out at last what it was. One night I woke 
up, with my hair stan'in' on end, an' heerd Rachel Em- 
mons's voice, jist as you heerd it last night. Mary Ann 
heerd it too, an' it's little peace she's giv' me sence that 
time. An' so it's been goin' on an' on, these eight or nine 
year.'' 

'* But," I asked, " are you sure she is alive ? Have you 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 49*7 

seen her since ? Have you asked her to be merciful and 
not disturb you ?" 

" Yes," said he, with a bitterness of tone which seemed 
quite to obliterate the softer memories of his love, " I've 
seen her, an' I've begged her on my knees to let me alone ; 
but it's no use. When it got to be so bad I couldn't stan' 
it, I sent her a letter, but I never got no answer. Xext 
year, when our second boy died, frightened and worried to 
death, I believe, though he was scrawny enough when he 
was born, I took some money I'd saved to buy a yoke of 
oxen, an' went to Toledo o' purpose to see Rachel. It cut 
me awful to do it, but I was desprit. I found her livin' in 
a little house, with a bit o' garden, she'd bought. I s'pose 
she must 'a' had five or six hundred dollars when the farm 
was sold, an' she made a good deal by sewin', besides. She 
was settin' at her work when I went in, an' knowed me at 
onst, though I don't believe I'd ever 'a' knowed her. She 
was old, an' thin, an' hard-lookin' ; her mouth was pale an' 
sot, like she was bitin' somethin' all the time ; an' her eyes, 
though they was sunk into her head, seemed to look through 
an' through an' away out th' other side o' you. 

" It jist shut me up when she looked at me. She was so 
corpse-like I was afraid she'd drop dead, then and there : 
but I made out at last to say, 'Rachel, I've come all the 
way from Illuiois to see you.' She kep' lookin' straight at 
me, never sayin' a word. ' Rachel,' says I, ' I know I've 
acted bad towards you. God knows I didn't mean to do it. 
I don't blame you for payin' it back to me the way you're 
doin', but Mary Ann an' the boy never done you no harm. 
I've come all the way o' purpose to ask your forgiveness. 



49S AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

hopin' you'll be satisfied with what's been done, an' leave oflf 
bearin' malice agin us.' She looked kind o' sorrowful-like, 
but drawed a deep breath, an' shuck her head. ' Oh, 
Rachel,' says I — an' afore I knowed it I was right down on 
my knees at her feet — ' Rachel, don't be so hard on me. 
I'm the onhappiest man that lives. I can't stan' it no 
longer. Rachel, you didn't use to be so cruel, when we 
was boys an' girls together. Do forgive me, an' leave off 
hauntin' me so.' 

"Then she spoke up, at last, an' says she — 

" ' Eber Nicholson, I was married to you, in the sight o' 
God!' 

" ' I know it,' says I ; ' you say it to me every night ; an' 
it wasn't my doin's that you're not my wife now : but, 
Rachel, if I'd 'a' betrayed you, an' ruined you, an' killed 
you, God couldn't 'a' punished me worse than you're a-pun- 
ishin' me.' 

" She giv' a kind o' groan, an' two tears run down her 
white face. ' Eber Nicholson,' says she, ' ask God to help 
you, for I can't. There might 'a' been a time,' says she, 
' when I could 'a' done it, but it's too late now.' 

" ' Don't say that, Rachel,' says I ; ' it's never too late to 
be merciful an' forgivin'.' 

" ' It doesn't depend on myself,' says she ; ' I'm sent to 
you. It's th' only comfort I have in life to be near you ; 
but I'd give up that, if I could. Pray to God to let me 
die, for then we shall both have rest.' 

"An' that was all I could git out of her. 

" I come home ag'in, knowm' I'd spent my money for 
nothin'. Sence then, it's been jist the same as before — not 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 499 

regular every night, but sort o' comes on by spells, an' then 
stops three or four days, an' then comes on ag'in. Fact is, 
what's the use o' livin' in this way ? We can't be neigh- 
borly ; we're afeard to have anybody come to see us ; we've 
get no peace, no comfort o' bein' together, an' no heart to 
work an' git ahead, like other folks. It's jist killin' me, 
body an' soul." 

Here the poor wretch fairly broke down, bursting sud- 
denly into an uncontrollable fit of weeping. I waited qui- 
etly until the violence of his passion had subsided. A 
misery so strange, so completely out of the range of human 
experience, so hopeless apparently, was not to be reached 
by the ordinary utterances of consolation. I had seen 
enough to enable me fully to understand the fearful nature 
of the retribution which had been visited upon him for what 
was, at worst, a weakness to be pitied, rather than a sin 
to be chastised. " jN"ever was a man worse punished," he 
had truly said. But I was as far as ever from comprehend- 
ing the secret of those nightly visitations. The statement 
of Rachel Emmons, that they were now produced without 
her will, overturned — supposing it to be true — the con- 
jecture which I might otherwise have adopted. However, 
it was now plain that the unhappy victim sobbing at my 
side could throw no further light on the mystery. He had 
told me all he knew. 

" My friend," said I, when he had become calmer, " I 
do not wonder at your desperation. Such continual tor- 
ment as you must have endured is enough to drive a man 
to madness. It seems to me to spring from the malice of 
some infernal power, rather than the righteous justice qf 



500 AT HOME AND ABROAD. : 

i 

God. Have you never tried to resist it ? Have you never | 
called aloud, in your heart, for Divine help, and gathered j 
up your strength to meet and defy it, as you would to meet ; 
a man Avho threatened your life ?" j 

" IS^ot in the right way, I'm afeard," said he. '' Fact is, 5 
I always tuck it as a judgment hangin' over me, an' never \ 
thought o' nothin' else than jist to grin and bear it." - 

" Enough of that," I urged — for a hope of relief had 'sug- . 
gested itself to me; " you have suffered enough, and more ] 
than enough. Now stand up to meet it like a man. When ; 
the noises come again, think of what you have endured, and i 
let it make you indignant and determined. Decide in your ] 
heart that you will be free from it, and perhaps you may ] 
be so. If not, build another shanty and sleep away from : 
your wife and boy, so that they may escape, at least. Give ; 
yourself this claim to your wife's gratitude, and she will be ; 
kind and forbearing." l 

" I don't know but you're more 'n half right, stranger," 
he replied, in a more cheerful tone. "Fact is, I never ■ 
thought on it that way. It's lightened my heart a heap, I 
tellin' you ; an' if I'm not too broke an' used-up-like, I'll try j 
to foller your advice. I couldn't marry Rachel now, if \ 
Mary Ann was dead, we've been druv so fur apart. I don't ] 
know how it'll be when we're all dead : I s'pose them 'U \ 
go together that belongs together ; leastways, 't ought to ; 
be so." i. 

Here we struck the Bloomington road, and I no longer \ 
needed a guide. When we pulled our horses around, facing ] 
each other, I noticed that the flush of excitement still burned j 
on the man's sallow cheek, and his eyes, washed by pro : 



\, 



THE HAUNTED SHAXTY. 501 

bably the first freshet of feeling which had moistened them 
for years, shone with a faint lustre of courage. 

" No, no — none o' that !" said he, as I was taking out 
my porte-monnaie ; " you've done me a mighty sight more 
good than I've done you, let alone payin' me to boot. 
Don't forgit the turn to the left, after crossin' Jackson's 
Run. Good-bye, stranger ! Take good keer o' yourself!" 

And with a strong, clinging, lingering grasp of the hand, 
in which the poor fellow expressed the gratitude which he 
was too shy and awkward to put into words, w^e parted. 
He turned his horse's head, and slowly plodded back through 
the mud towards the lonely shanty. 

On my way to Bloomington, I went over and over the 
man's story, in memory. The facts were tolerably clear 
and coherent : his narrative was simple a.nd credible enough, 
after my own personal experience of the mysterious noises, 
and the secret, whatever it was, must be sought for in 
Rachel Emmons. She was still living in Toledo, Ohio, he 
said, and earned her living as a seamstress ; it would, there- 
fore, not be difficult to find her. I confess, after his own 
unsatisfactory interview, I had little hope of penetrating 
her singular reserve ; but I felt the strongest desire to see 
her, at least, and thus test the complete reality of a story 
which surpassed the wildest fiction. After visiting Terre 
Haute, the next point to which business called me, on the 
homeward route, was Cleveland ; and by giving an addi- 
tional day to the journey, I could easily take Toledo on my 
way. Between memory and expectation the time passed 
rapidly, and a week later I registered my name at thf 
Island House, Toledo. 



502 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

After wandering about for an hour or two, tlie next 
morning, I finally discovered the residence of Rachel Em- 
mons. It was a small story-and-a-half frame building, on 
the western edge of the town, with a locust-tree in front, 
two lilacs inside the paling, and a wilderness of cabbage- 
stalks and currant-bushes in the rear. After much cogita- 
tion, I had not been able to decide upon any plan of action, 
and the interval between my knock and the opening of the 
door was one of considerable embarrassment to me. A 
small, plumpish woman of forty, with peaked nose, black 
e3''es, and but two upper teeth, confronted me. She, cer- 
tainly, was not the one I sought. 

" Is your name Rachel Emmons ?" I asked, nevertheless. 

" No, I'm not her. This is her house, though." 

" Will you tell her a gentleman w^ants to see her ?" said 
I, putting my foot inside the door as I spoke. The room, 
I saw, w^as plainly, but neatly furnished. A rag-carpet 
covered the floor ; green rush-bottomed chairs, a settee 
with chintz cover, and a straight-backed rocking-chair were 
distributed around the walls ; and for ornament there was 
an alphabetical »sampler in a frame, over the low wooden 
mantel-piece. 

The w^oman, however, still held the door-knob in her 
hand, saying, " Miss Emmons is busy. She can't well leave 
her work. Did you want some sewin' done ?'' 

" No," said I ; " I wish to speak with her. It's on pri- 
vate and particular business.'' 

" Well," she answered with some hesitation, " I'll tell her. 
Take a cheer." 

She disappeared through a door into a back room, and 1 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 503 

sat down. In another minute the door noiselessly reopened, 
and Rachel Emmons came softly into the room. I believe 
I should have known her anywhere. Though from Eber 
Nicholson's narrative she could not have been much over 
thirty, she appeared to be at least forty-five. Her hair was 
streaked with gray, her face thin and of an unnatural waxy 
pallor, her lips of a whitish-blue color and tightly pressed 
together, and her eyes, seemingly sunken far back in their 
orbits, burned with a strange, ghastly — I had almost said 
phosphorescent — flight. I remember thinking they must 
shine like touch-wood in the dark. I have come in contact 
with too many persons, passed through too wide a range 
of experience, to lose my self-possession easily ; but I could 
not meet the cold, steady gaze of those eyes without a 
strong internal trepidation. It would have been the same, 
if I had know^n nothing about her. 

She was probably surprised at seeing a stranger, but I 
could discern no trace of it in her face. She advanced but 
a few steps into the room, and then stopped, waiting for me 
to speak. 

" You are Rachel Emmons ?" I asked, since a commence- 
ment of some sort must be made. 

"Yes." 

"I come from Eber Nicholson,'' said I, fixing my eyes on 
her face. 

Not a muscle moved, not a nerve quivered, but I fancied 
that a faint purple flush played for an instant under the 
white mask. If I were correct, it was but momentary. 
She lifted her left hand slowly, pressed it on her heart, 
and then let it fall. The motion was so calm that I should 



504 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

not have noticed it, if I had not been watching her so 
steadily. 

" "Well ?" she said, after a pause. 

"Rachel Emmons," said I, — and more than one cause 
conspired to make my voice earnest and authoritative, — " I 
know all. I come to you not to meddle with the sorrow — • 
let me say the sin — which has blighted your life ; not be- 
cause Eber Nicholson sent me ; not to defend him or to 
accuse you ; but from that solemn sense of duty which 
makes every man responsible to God for what he does or 
leaves undone. An equal pity for him and for you forces 
me to speak. He cannot plead his cause ; you cannot un- 
derstand his misery. I will not ask by what wonderful 
power you continue to torment his life ; I will not even 
doubt that you pity while you afflict him ; but I ask you to 
reflect whether the selfishness of your sorrow may not have 
hardened your heart, and blinded you to that consolation 
which God offers to those who humbly seek it. You say 
that you are married to Eber Nicholson, in His sight. 
Think, Rachel Emmons, think of that moment when you 
will stand before His awful bar, and the poor, broken, suf-^ 
fering soul, whom your forgiveness might still make yours 
in the holy marriage of heaven, shrinks from you with fear . 
and pain, as in the remembered persecutions of earth !" 

The words came hot from my very heart, and the ice- 
crust of years under which hers lay benumbed gave way 
before them. She trembled slightly; and the same sad, 
hopeless moan which I had heard at midnight in the Illinois 
shanty came from her lips. She sank into a chair, letting 
her hands fall heavily at her side. There was no move 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 505 

ment of her features, yet I saw that her waxy cheeks were 
moist, as with the slow ooze of tears so long unshed that 
they had forgotten their natural flow. 

" I do pity him," she murmured at last, " and I believe I 
forgive him ; but, oh ! I've become an instrument of wrath 
for the punishment of both." 

If any feeling of reproof still lingered in my mind, her 
appearance disarmed me at once. I felt nothing but pity 
for her forlorn, helpless state. It was the apathy of des- 
pair, rather than the coldness of cherished malice, which 
had so frozen her life. Still, the mystery of those nightly 
persecutions ! 

" Rachel Emmons,'' I said, " you certainly know that you 
still continue to destroy the peace of Eber Nicholson and 
his family. Do you mean to say that you cannot cease to 
do so, if you would ?" 

" It is too late," said she, shaking her head slowly, as she 
clasped both hands hard against her breast. " Do you think 
I would suifer, night after night, if I could help it ? Have- 
n't I stayed awake for days, till my strength gave way, 
rather than fall asleep, for Ms sake ? Wouldn't I give my 
life to be free ? — and would have taken it, long ago, with 
my own hands, but for the sin !" 

She spoke in a low voice, but with a wild earnestness 
which startled me. She, then, was equally a victim ! 

" But," said I, " this thing had a beginning. Why did 
you visit him in the first place, when, perhaps, you might 
have prevented it ?" 

" I am afraid that was my sin," she replied, " and this is 
the punishment. When father and mother died, and I was 

22 



506 AT HOME AND ABllOAD. 

layin' sick and weak, with nothin' to do but think of hAm^ 
and me all alone in the world, and not knowin' how to live 
without him, because I had nobody left, — that's when it 
begun. When the deadly kind o' sleeps came on — they 
used to think I was dead, or faintin', at first — and I could 
go where my heart drawed me, and look at him away off 
where he lived, 'twas consolin', and I didn't try to stop it. 
I used to long for the night, so I could go and be near him 
for an hour or two. I don't know how I went ; it seemed 
to come of itself. After a while I felt I was troublin' him 
and doin' no good to myself, but the sleeps came just the 
same as ever, and then I couldn't help myself. They're 
only a sorrow to me now, but I s'pose I shall have 'em till 
I'm laid in my grave." 

This was all the explanation she could give. It was evi- 
dently one of those mysterious cases of spiritual disease 
which completely baffle our reason. Although compelled 
to accept her statement, I felt incapable of suggesting any 
remedy. I could only hope that the abnormal condition 
into which she had fallen might speedily wear out her vital 
energies, already seriously shattered. She informed me, 
further, that each attack was succeeded by great exhaus- 
tion, and that she felt herself growing feebler, from year 
to year. The immediate result, I suspected, was a disease 
of the heart, which might give her the blessing of death 
sooner than she hoped. Before taking leave of her, I suc- 
ceeded in procuring from her a promise that she would 
write to Eber Nicholson, giving him that free forgiveness 
which would at least ease his conscience, and make his bur- 
den somewhat lighter to bear. Then, feeling that it was not 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 507 

m my power to do more, I rose to depart. Taking her 
hand, which lay cold and passive in mine, — so much like a 
dead hand that it required a strong effort in me to repress 
a nervous shudder,— I said, " Farewell, Rachel Emmons, 
and remember that they who seek peace in the right spirit 
will always find it at last." 

" It won't be many years before I find it," she replied, 
calmly ; and the weird, supernatural light of her eyes shone 
upon me for the last time. 

I reached INTew York in due time, and did not fail, sitting 
around the broiled oysters and celery, with my partners, to 
repeat the story of the Haunted Shanty. I knew, before- 
hand, how they would receive it ; but the circumstances 
had taken such hold of my mind, — so burned me, like a 
boy's money, to keep buttoned up in the pocket, — that I 
could no more help telling the tale than the man I remem- 
ber reading about, a great while ago, in a poem called 
" The Ancient Mariner." Beeson, who, I suspect, don't 
believe much of anything, is always apt to carry his rail- 
lery too far ; and thenceforth, whenever the drum of a tar- 
get-company, marching down Broadway, passed the head 
of our street, he would whisper to me, " There comes Ra- 
chel Emmons !'' until I finally became angry, and insisted 
that the subject should never again be mentioned. 

But I none the less recalled it to my mind, from time to 
time, Avith a singular interest. It was the one supernatural, 
or, at least, inexplicable experience of my life, and I con- 
tinued to feel a profound curiosity with regard to the two 
principal characters. My slight endeavor to assist them by 
such counsel as had suggested itself to me was actuated by 



508 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

the purest human sympathy, and upon further reflection I 
could discover no other means of help. A spiritual disease 
could be cured only by spiritual medicine, — unless, indeed, 
the secret of Rachel Emmons's mysterious condition lay in 
some permanent dislocation of the relation between soul and 
body, which could terminate only with their final separation. 

With the extension of our business, and the increasing 
calls upon my time during my Western journeys, it was 
three years before I again found myself in Toledo, with 
sufficient leisure to repeat my visit. I had some difficulty in 
finding the little frame house ; for, although it was unalter- 
ed in every respect, a number of stately brick " villas" had 
sprung up around it and quite disguised the locality. The 
door was opened by the same little black-eyed woman, with 
the addition of four artificial teeth, which were altogether 
too large and loose. They were attached by plated hooks 
to her eye-teeth, and moved up and down when she spoke. 

" Is Rachel Emmons at home ?'' I asked. 

The woman stared at me in evident surprise. 

"She's dead," said she, at last, and then added, — "let's 
see, — a'n't you the gentleman that called here, some three 
or four years ago ?" 

" Yes," said I, entering the room ; " I should like to hear 
about her death.'' 

" Well, — Hioas rather queer. She was failin' when you 
was here. After that she got softer and weaker-like, an' 
didn't have her deathlike wearin' sleeps so often, but she 
went just as fast for all that. The doctor said 'twas heart- 
disease, and the nerves was gone, too ; so he only giv' her 
morphy, and sometimes pills, but he knowed she'd no 



THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 50t 

cbance from the first. 'Twas a year ago last May when 
she died. She'd been confined to her bed about a week, 
but I'd no thought of her goin' so soon. I was settin' up 
with her, and 'twas a little past midnight, maybe. She'd 
been layin' like dead awhile, an' I was thinkin' I could 
snatch a nap befi^re she woke. All 't oust she riz right up 
in bed, with her eyes wide open, an' her face lookin' real 
happy, an' called out, loud and strong, — 'Farewell, Eber 
Nicholson ! farewell ! I've come for the last time ! There's 
peace for me in heaven, an' peace for you on earth 
Farewell ! farewell !' Then she dropped back on the piller, 
stone-dead. She'd expected it, 't seems, and got the doc- 
tor to write her will. She left me this house and lot, — I'm 
her second cousin on the mother's side, — but all her money in 
the Sa'vdn's Bank, six hundred and seventy-nine dollars and a 
half, to Eber K'icholson. The doctor writ out to Illinois, an' 
found he'd gone to Kansas, a year before. So the money's 
in bank yit ; but I s'pose he'U git it, some time or other." 

As I returned to the hotel, conscious of a melancholy 
pleasure at the news of her death, I could not help wonder- 
ing, — " Did he hear that last farewell, far away in his Kan- 
sas cabin ? Did he hear it, and fall asleep with thanksgiv- 
ing in his heart, and arise in the morning to a liberated 
life ?" I have never visited Kansas, nor have I ever heard 
from him since ; but I know that the living ghost which 
haunted hira is laid for ever. 

Reader, you will not believe my story ; but it is teue. 

TE[E ENI>o 



